Three Perfect Seasons

Picture from here.

I went through a lot of my old poetry and song lyrics about a month ago, and I came across some interesting things. I wrote this set of lyrics several years ago--I think right around winter of my freshman year of college--and, like most of my stuff, I find it thematically resonates with me now even more than it did when I originally wrote it. I also like the imagery in this one, but of course, I could be biased. Hope you enjoy it! And please don't judge me too harshly; I was young. Hells, I still am, and if you haven't noticed, I have a thing for overly dramatic imagery surrounding the relationship between seasons, especially autumn. Title: "Three Perfect Seasons" (yes, just like the title of this entry, if you're one of those observant types).

He looks like the wintertime;
You remind me of a summer, long gone by.
Now everything is quite alright:
I have frost at my fingertips, poetry by candlelight, 
     dark hair, and darker eyes.
Almost a year has passed since I
Threw it all away, my summer sky,
     on a song and in a night. 
Now everything is turning out just fine: 
Winter brushing autumn lips, chocolate and fireside, 
     cold hands and colder lies.


We’re almost alright now, and I’ve almost forgiven you,
And we’re almost alive now, and you’re almost telling me the truth.


So let’s hear it for the earth who moves around the sun, 
Making sure that we end up exactly where we had begun. 
We’re on speaking terms again; 
You’re asking me your questions, 
     and it takes all I am not to give in. 
He is still my winter present; 
You are still my summer past, the memory of that
     which should never end.


We’re almost alright now, and I’ve almost forgiven you, 
And we’re almost alive now, and you’re almost telling me the truth. 


Now let’s hear it for the moon who moves around the earth, 
Counting months as they pass
     and fail to heal the hurt.
Now everything is quite alright:
I have icy windowpanes, winter snow that still remains,
     glistening in the starlight,
My star-bright.


We’re almost alright now, and I’ve almost forgiven you,
And we’re almost alive now, and you’re almost telling me the truth.


I’ll make a wish upon a star, shooting across the November sky.
Kick my seasons out of order; make my planets align.
Keep the winter from entering so fall and summer can collide.


We’re almost alright now, and I’ve almost forgiven you,
And we’re almost alive now, and you’re almost telling me the truth. 
We’re almost alright now, and I’ve almost forgotten you, 
And we’ve said goodbye now, but we’ve never told the truth. 
We’re almost just fine now, and I’ve fallen again for you, 
And we’re almost perfect now: isn’t that the beautiful, perfect truth?