Seasons

He feels like the seasons all woven in captive time.
As strong as the accretion that makes me lose my center of gravity. 
He feels like the etesian breeze as yearly summer falls. 
Orange leaves soon change,
to birch trees bordering a vast range of iced massif. 
And in the winter- when the valiant winds wash across the ocean, 
He’ll feel like the warmth of home, unbundling all your layers. 
Summertime shows he cares. 
In moments when he’s realized you’ve just put a heart note written on scratch paper, gently inside his pocket. 
Keep these modest memories present, wrapped in silk sentiment.
He’s the silver lining of spring when bumble bees sing and the ambiance of gardens blossoms with wooden pipes and metal chimes. 
His eyes keep you paused in time, capturing every ripe moment before you blink as they sublime.