Why Won't the Seasons Change?

just another poem

Bright stars are given light
But should their prolonged patience
Be the author of their very fears?
Like Christmas trees cut down
The worries are not on separation but
Anticipated love

Dead trees are uprooted
Along with budding flowers
And the children playing in the snow
Cry because they're too cold

This killing winter wind
Chaps my lips
Which are still longing for the warmth of her lips
Bleeding from this dying season
Her smooth skin against mine
Comforts my wishful thinking
But the thought of a winter
Such as this, so sobering
Destroys the hope of spring

Tomorrow I'll get up
With my perishing hope
And this life so meaningless and bleak
Pray against these repeating days
And await the horizon of a new season