Count the days of love
will you call it bright or dark.
It seems like the spring
in every part of your soul.
even the colours of rainbow would fail
To mark the glorious hues it spreads.
or would you call it Autumn
the valediction leaves you vulnerable
the fade-ness of colors, the lost of merriment
the whole world seems crumbling
was it of any worth?
or would you call it winter
leaving behind a frozen heart
cracks all over, coldness and numbness from head to toe.
love has its own season
never know in which you may apt to
from loveliness to nothingness
is all a journey, like the 365 days of thee.