I Wintered in the valley
Of your breasts
Warm, soft and comforting
They were everything
The shape under your dress
Promised them to be
Spring was in the scented petals
Between your thighs
Heated, honey-dipped and glowing
Responsive to touch
And the passionate yearnings
I had once imagined
The pools we spent in Summer
We carved out of bed
Rocking, swirling, tumbling
In waves of rigid, sweaty lust
Peeling our desire down
Layer by layer
Too soon Autumn came on
No sooner said
Than done, finished and withering
Despite your giving hands
To be replaced by clinical disdain
And a lack of conversation
No amount of Summers
Can make up for a bitter Autumn