Turning

"It is one month short of a year"

Turning

It is one month short of a year.
How did i make it through?
The world just kept turning around me, regardless.
I fell like the autumn leaves, being thrown and blown
about haphazardly by the wind, then, resting upon the ground,
breaking down.
I was swallowed up by the earth.
I lay in that earth, dormant throughout the winter,
which seemed twice as cold without your warmth.
 
The spring pushed me up and out of the ground,
wasted and weak, shying away from the bright glare of the sun.
I cowered, while everything carried on growing about me,
with the waxing warmth shedding my layers.
And the summers long days, they seemed twice as long.
Too long to endure.
Looking for respite away from the light, bare and naked in the heat,
I longed for the autumn again, to bring about the winter
so i may be swallowed up once more by the earth.