a bit of amateur poetry

I've tried writing about ten different blogs in the past month. All of them come out very wrong. I've been bottling up some emotions again, and that is always just a recipe for disaster. But I don't want to vent them here. All the wrong people will read too much into what I say. So. I'll just keep that quiet for now and post a small poem I wrote last fall instead just to keep active.

(disclaimer. I don't really "do" poetry anymore. It was just a silly mood that struck me one evening.)

A TALE OF TWO SEASONS

Upon the first night, the moon was full, beautiful plump and round.
They saw one another by the light of it, but had yet to know what they found.

He was cold and brittle and dark, She warm and aging so fair.
Autumn the product between them, No nights of perfection compare.

They melded together so sweetly, and the steam of it rose to the skies.
It shrouded his view of the heavens, but smiled at the stars in her eyes.

By the new moon he wished her a present, something to lighten her frown.
He blew ‘cross the land, an icy cold breath, and gave her a red and gold gown.

His gift had caused her elation, she wore it with grace and a grin.
Then she returned his generous deed, dotting the land with pumpkin.

They went on like this for a while, caring not about means or the ends.
One wouldn’t have guessed, such opposite things, could make such wonderful friends.

Time slips as the moon keeps on waxing, turning everything blue as it gleams.
She said the best thing about the blue moon, is it brings such wonderful dreams.

She shall be reborn in the spring time, and then he will hibernate ‘til the fall.
Always dreaming and thinking, of pumpkins and gowns, and those most perfect nights of all.