Poetry is about capturing moments innit?

1. Summer

I played with the light as it stroked my hand,
Sliding in between the musty curtains.
It slanted like a soft equator, then took on
Mountainous form, carving my skin.

Summer is silent, oppressive.

Inside, the coolness was tender. It bathed
Away the sweat, dis-occupied the mind.
Let it all fall in a heap on the dark floor.

The peace of a thousand tombstones.

2. Autumn

I walked along the drafty street,
Bronzed leaves like pancake sludge
Underfoot. The vigorous threat of
Games called off when I reached school.
Soaked to the bone, my rainmac
Glistening in the open light.

A time when loss meant nothing.

3. Winter

The freeze in my room at morning,
A dull grey glare, a damp numbness.
Long, bruising fingers jabbing like
Pain. The night before, the party over,

I walked my Grandma home as the
Weak light crept through swollen
Clouds and the heat inside me swayed
And lurched. We had swallowed hard
And drank the night whole,

Knowing it would be cold in the morning.

4. Spring

Birth
Hope
Life.

I slouched on a bamboo chair
At the back of my conservatory.
The dingy sun shone through the
Glass and threatened warmth as
My thoughts tip-toed cautiously
Back to the night before.

'I'm having sex with someone else.'
The words burned that old buffoon
Love into the past, supplanting him
With an ache for how things were.