I hear the trees whispering secrets,
laced with venom, blossomed spite.
“We’ll kill Old Winter in his sleep,
And rule merrily forever!
Nobody wants ice and snow!”
And I answer ever so quietly,
‘I do.’
The heat fumes up before me,
Sticky palms, nervous beads,
The wind invades me and my skirts,
I blush prettily for Shame.
Summer boils the blood, they say,
And the violence wells up screaming,
‘You’re MINE!’
I hear the reeds rustling lies,
Crows refute them, Swallows spit,
“You belong to the darkness, girl,
Come dance happily with us!
Even the Moon can’t outlast us!”
But my answer will not sate them,
‘I’m alone.‘

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