My I’s

In Summer I love thee, for blind am I,
In watered sun, in honied hunting moon,
Thy love my days keeps melting and I try
To see thee smile, yet not for pleasure swoon.

In Autumn I miss thee, for sad I turn,
With frightful fallen leaves, my heart’s disease;
Thy love my nights exceeds, does not return,
In missing have I gained my expertise.

With woeful Winter to me hatred comes;
No gorgeous, courteous wind dares bring thee back.
I do not blame Him nor plead for thine arms;
Thy come-back would mean my heart attack!

With Winter gone, now Spring my soul unblinds,
The Seasons change and so do thus my I’s.