In my head it was surely a season

the same way shades of crimson and gold

clothe every pathway

when autumn arrives


The same way branches remain undressed and bare

becoming numb to the icy blankets of wind

when winter comes knocking


The same way spring unpacks their suitcase

and begins to wear their floral dresses again

when spring blossoms


The same way summer browns one’s skin with patterns

whilst tanning alongside the pool with an ice-cream

when summer drives by with its windows down and its leather seats hot


But ever since the trees forgot how to open their wardrobe full of multi-coloured shirts

I seem to have forgotten what colour even is

streets have come to sink beneath dead leaves

and it seems as though I am frozen in time

stuck in the same season