Fair-weather Friend

My joy is gone
with the sun
but was that me at all?
My woeful winter
could be my center
My fair-weather friend,
leads me on.
  
All the fancies and the foils
those sweltering nights encourage
leave me when frost bites hard.
The lump that’s left
is the real me, I guess
That boisterous party girl
is a facade 
built by summer’s
glimmer-prismic holographs.
  
She cares not 
about the worries
in my frigid core,
that fair-weather friend,
damned doppelganger.
Reports say she’s South,
basking in radiance
while I am here 
crawling through fog 
and puddles
of quiet sorrow.
 
I know she returns
because I give her substance,
soul;
and I tolerate her
so I can be included
in the follies of
unfledged communes.
 
 So pathetic and dismal am I
that half of me leaves
for half of the year.
Published in: on November 24, 2011 at 11:12 pm  Leave a Comment  
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