Proserpine; An Old Tale of Modern Adolescence

To this day I have not yet found

A feeling like being in your arms bound.

Behind me leave I the trappings of summer

For I find myself yearning for winter’s murmur.

Yet in what state now be in I?

One foot fettered, the other untied.

Trapped between Ceres’ warm embrace

And the winter fields of your loving face.

Locked inside an unwelcoming home

I’m kept inside, not allowed to know

Whether I may see you again

Whether our love has come to an end.

Soporific heat and awakening cold

Decorate the trees with colors meaning old.

I’m inclined to touch you my dear, to feel

That which I only can one season of the year.

Those vitriolic titles with which they’ve crowned you

Only make my feelings all the more true.

When the plants a color of honey turn

Then from mother’s safety I spurn.

Pluto let me touch you, let me love you

Let me feel you, let me crown you;

Summer will be gone, winter shall come

And with it the day we will be one.

This poem is about: 
Our world

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