Wind Called You

I am winter
something you look forward to
until you’re in the thick of it.
Fire roasts in the fireplace
of unspoken desire.

You are fall.
You spread your leaves everywhere
you please.
The sun comes out,
but it’s mistaken for your smile.

I feel your tickle against my ribs
long before you go to sleep.
When you’re asleep, I protect you,
making sure your sun stays bright.

You gave me my first taste of cider
and brought me a sweater
that matches yours.

I can feel the ice beneath my skin
crack and crease
a piece of you
that forever lives in me.

For a brief second,
gravity doesn’t exist.
And the impossible becomes possible.
Your leaves toss and tumble,
tickling my ribs even more.

Most people call it wind.
I’ve learned to call it you.