my summer brain is slumbering.
i cannot picture warm suns and hot days.
only the swift pitching of the choppy waters and
too quick progression linger with me.
my autumn brain is boring.
i only watch the leaves pitching differently
down and dwindling, instead,
the motivated craze of ocean.
winter brain beckons.
sweaters to snuggle into and i cannot
picture anything unpleasant.
only the warmth of tea and fog-breath.
looking back, i'll foolishly cry
-i wished for winter.
when all i ever ask is summer.
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