Seasoned Lover. (Day 2, Bright)

I distinctly remember asking you what summer tastes like...

Who better, to dip suntans
and loose-fitting dresses
into clear pools of warmth and brief encounters.
I knew you'd had it once.

Instead you spoke through
brisk winds, iced corners, and
frigid hunched shoulders.

But I've tasted winter already and
my lips grew weary from constant quivering.

I'd rather not cry in winter time ,
but I distinctly remember asking you what summer tastes like.

-tree.