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E T Waldron

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Fading Seasons
by E T Waldron

Sunday, August 06, 2006
Not rated by the Author.
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In driven snow  pristine
As flakes gently fall
I abide within the silence
Of loves soft withdrawal

With springs arrival
Still holding on to hope
As birds return with song
We seem to creep along

Now summer is almost gone
Autumn will color my days
But I don't know if crimson
Will be one of the hues

Thinking about him
He wells up inside me
Like a bubbly fountain
Making me giddy
Over flowing with love

Picturing how it is that
His eyes mesmerize
His voice captivates
His touch melts me
Until I drip like honey

How I make him feel
I don't know he never says
Anymore, I dare not ask
I think I've run out of seasons



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Reviewed by K. Mulroney 8/13/2006
My My...almost has the same feel as MY "Colored Life" poem. The some times heavy burden of partnerships gone thru "the seasons." As usual, a grea piece!
Reviewed by Abdi-Noor Mohamed (Eagle Of Hope) 8/9/2006
Every season brings new hopes to me. I just have to find out which way I best adjust myself to the new situation. well done eileen and GBQ
Reviewed by jude forese 8/7/2006
the seasons of the heart always are in motion ...

very moving & well written ...
Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner 8/7/2006
Poignant, Eileen; one feels the lingering sadness. Well done!

(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Reviewed by Tinka Boukes 8/7/2006
And it goes around and around and around...and each time we are one year older.....what a bummer!!

Love Tinka :)
Reviewed by Andy Turner (Reader) 8/6/2006
Best part of living in a temperate climate are the seasons.
They all do have their own unique beauty.
But spring and the fall seem to be getting shorter.
Reviewed by A PAX 8/6/2006
if you can remember each season with affection, and not dread, then it was time well spent, and you are blessed to have had the experience at all :) pax A
Reviewed by Susan de Vegter 8/6/2006
When fall comes and the leaves are oxidized and nature has her new dress...I'm reminded of living and , like you...the autumn of my years. It is a good time then...for regression and painting a new day. Get out the canvas Eileen...time for painting a change.
Love to you ,
Reviewed by richard cederberg 8/6/2006
I think the image - flotsam in a stream - encapsulates much of how we respond to one another.

"But I don't know if crimsom will be one of the hues"... is a sombering reality check in my mind. We are mortal, and there is much that we don't know about even an hour from now.

As writers, and artists, we open up ourselves up to forces that can take us to many places. Creativity is not a mandate to explore all realms. There has to be responsibility in the searching! There is clear accountability to reflect Truth in what we do. This of course opens us up to the criticism of others and ofttimes ruins the harmony of what we strive to establish with what we do because of personal bias.

I must applaud you Eileen in your commitment to remain honorable in your explorations, and in your dogggedness to never waver in the mandate that you have been given to enlighten with your creations.

I salute you Poet in respect!

Richard Lloyd Cederberg
Reviewed by Ed Matlack 8/6/2006
Seasonal sex or just the thought of it is the best...e
Reviewed by ROCK-Salt! Proctor 8/6/2006
Only for this calender year, sweety, It starts all over again.
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader) 8/6/2006
Never run out of seasons, Eileen, we just refilter the old ones until they look like shucked corn.
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