People say that life is short

12 months

52 weeks

365 days

That’s a year

But a year of what?

You can live but not be living

You can fly but still touch the ground

You can scream but not make any sound

So this year, is it really a year?

If I’m sitting on the ground

Crying like the rain as I walk away from you

But then again

Who are you?

I don’t know

So why am I crying?

I don’t know you

I don’t love you

At least . . . Not anymore

Just because your flowers bloomed while I was still shivering in the cold

Doesn’t mean I can’t make flowers of my own

You’ve found your spring

You’ve made your change

And it’s a beautiful, amazing change

But my seasons

My winter, spring, summer and fall

They don’t work like yours

You’ve braved the winter

And found the sun

Now it’s my turn

I’ve stayed in the winter

Long enough

I’ve watched you change through the orange leaves, white blizzards, pink blossoms and warm sunshine

So now I’m guessing it’s my turn

I’m not going to change

Not that fast

But as long as I’m here

Sitting in the blinding snow

As long as I have this life

This life of mine

I’m going to make the best of it

Sure it won’t work out

But let’s be honest

The seasons don’t always follow the rules

It’s snowed in fall, it’s been warm in winter, flowers have grown and lasted well into summer, and sometimes it seems as though fall never gets its turn

So I’m going to live with my changing life

And know that some of my summers will be cold but they’ll also be warm

My falls will be chilly, but filled with rainbows of hope

My winters cold and icy, but still warmed with love

My springs might never come, but in my three other changes I’ll make flowers of my own