I fell for Summer, once

I fell for summer once,
And of course I melted;
She was too gorgeous for withstanding heat,
Her nouns who promised autumn,
Would perhaps be more sincere.

Of course I fell, and blindly.
Unlike my heroes, no epic written for my mirror,
Now I shiver in the reflection,
Contemplating questions without adjectives,
And it's quite the eyesore.

Winter no longer soothes her heat,
Rather it puts our differences in contrast,
Striking and painful, one wishes for the next month, then the next,
Before realising there's no reprieve
From embarrassing Spring comparisons.

I never gave up on her, of course,
I gave in, really, and she cringed,
Having in mind a rather more esoteric ending
To what I clumsily offered up, tainted with fragments
Of shattered glass, and wistful futures.

I'm sure she'll forgive me;
Just as soon as she's forgotten me.
But I'll hold her sun, the breezes, the clouds, their rain,
In a child's music box – no longer of any purpose,
But impossible to dispose of,
At least, not without regret.