10 minute #wpthu posting on love and loss.

It was spring time when we met. You came to me among the green sword-like tulip bulbs pushing their way through the soil, the fragrant hyacinths throwing open their candlewax blooms to greet you, the rose-red camellia lighting the dark corners of the garden, the rose thorns waiting to catch the hand that prunes them and the leaf buds exploding on the branches.

In summer we watched the grass grow around us as we sat and learnt each other, we felt the branches swaying over us in the breeze and the lavender lent its fragrance to heighten our passion.

As autumn approached the grass turned dry and spare, the leaves fell upon our dying embers, the wind become sharp and harsh.

In winter the snow fell. When the snow went you went too. You left me cold, cold as snow, cold as winter wind, cold as bitter frost.

In spring, the tulip swords cut into my being, the flower scents made jagged my breath, the camellia flowers and leaf buds mocked me in their brightness. And the rose thorns? Perhaps just a few memories had snagged on them waiting to be untangled when the time was come.