One week to fall in love

Day one: fall.
Orange leaves that crumple under shoes
Crazy loud thunderstorms.
Is it hot out or is it cold?
The ever-falling leaves, like the sand in an hour glass
My days falling to the ground.

Day three: winter.
Freezing cold,
10 feet of snow,
Some days, a frozen paradise,
the next a brutal storm.
A season that lasts too long.

Day five: spring.
Will I survive the fever?
Can the summer ever come?
Will the flowers please stay?
Come faster, stay longer,
let the breeze take the old me away.

Day seven: summer.
Scorching hours
for some reason, we never want it to end.
The days feel hot,
And the nights—infinite.
This is the three month teenage wasteland that we live for.

The even days are fine, the in-between days, the ones that have the details,
the days where we meet new people,
the time where the new us is created.
The even days are gradual, no exact moment where you finally became friends
You don’t know the moment you changed,
The exact moment you fell in love cannot be determined

Day two: fall’s details.
Spending days beneath the trees watching those leaves,
sitting on the porch in shorts and t-shirt,
watching the storms roll in.
Walking along the railroad tracks with nothing better to do,
that’s where you fell in love.





Day four: winter’s details.
Making snowmen, crooked, but proud.
Burrowing in the ground beneath the snow,
cups of hot chocolate
with marshmallows bobbing around,
cozy blankets and hours of movies.

Day six: spring’s details.
The antsy excitement of the coming long days
sitting outside talking of old memories
and new, to be made.
The nervous butterflies that arrive and that are more often aflutter.
You will stay with me in the coming days.

One week: summer’s details.
We leave marks on those we have touched.
We have not faded away,
This love is infinite.
This week is summer.
We are a scorching heat.