The seasons

I walk into the room
and there are four people
waiting for their stories to be heard
I sit amidst them
I observe them
listen to the words they never spoke
The first person was Rain
tears fell on her lap
like raindrops on the ground
they synced well enough for me to hear
the song of her pain
sung by her teardrops

I turn to the second,
the Autumn as they say
She was beautiful,
yet she was broken
Her face was pale, shivers ran down her body.
She was the barren tree it felt
she wanted to feel green once again
but all she thought she would ever feel
is empty and numb

The third person I met that day
was Summer.
He was jolly
tried to bring a smile to the dull faces
Hopes in other’s lives
But I saw the darkness
that he hid behind that shine.
He burnt with regret, guilt
and the expectations of people he never met
yet he hid it all so well
so that others don’t worry

The last one was Winter,
he showed no reaction
he just sat there, as cold as ice
When I asked him,
he said
I am the villain of everyone’s story
for them, I am cold and harsh
I am the trouble,
but if only they knew my story
how I have been used,
would they ever love me like the others?
will they try to melt the ice with a bit of care?
or will they still hate me?
Maybe I am not made for love
What could I tell him?

Or the three before him?
Maybe it’s just a season,
It would be there for just a while longer,
But will they believe my saying
If I couldn’t?

 Saima Bhalla
Class: XI D
Apeejay School, Panchsheel Park