Changing of the Seasons

She changed as did the seasons
coming with the faint morning light
that reflected off the last remnants
of winter’s vestment.
So came the children of Spring
flowers at last in bloom,
each day with her a petal to be picked
eager bees swarming to collect their treasure,
her kisses were my nectar.
The blazing summer sun did little
next to the warmth of her touch
against my skin,
and I basked in it.
But as the trees swayed,
so did she.
Our flower, once infant, had aged
and lay decrepit amongst
the browning leaves.
The days began to shorten,
the sun heading to rest
its reflection fading from her eyes
as the darkness deepened.