My December

She had the autumn in her voice,
Her laughter slightly hoarse.
A sound of crisp leaves in rejoice

Summer danced playfully in her hair,
Golden locks, always a mess.
like sunrays on a still lake with flair.

You could see spring in her eyes,
Glittering and mesmerizing.
Promises of all new life yet to rise.

But her body held the winter cold,
Covering her skin and bones.
A tight grip I could never unfold.