Slowly I wither- a flower deprived of the sun- as the gusty gale sweeps me into darkness: oblivion. I fight to stay standing as the world around me crumbles. It’s the kind of hurt that follows me everywhere, shattering me over and over. But they say everything is temporary. The darkness, the grief- merely simple moments in a series of changing seasons. So, I look through the window, patiently watching the transient seasons fade, hoping my pain would too.

Crisp copper leaves suspended from the withering trees, tempestuous winds causing them to pirouette in mid-air. The mast broke, and the underfoot crackled. A dreary sky shrouded the city. It was the onset of autumn.

And like the mast, I broke too. Sitting at the sill- staring outside. They say things get better but I just crash and burn. Patiently watching the transient seasons fade, hoping my pain would too.

Gradually, ominous clouds infiltrate the sky. Thunder rumbles through the air accompanied by the blinding bolts of lightning. An earthy aroma circumnavigates its way through the surroundings and rain rages relentlessly in the storm. Monsoon has ascended.

And I was blinded too. Time passed, but tears still roll down my cheeks and bitterness lingers on my tongue. But time heals everything they say. So, I look through the window, patiently watching the transient seasons fade, hoping my pain would too.

Alabaster white snow succeeded the raindrops. The hibernal atmosphere resisted the streaks of sunlight. Lacerating winds stripped the loosened leaves from the trees, now stark in the harsh cold. Winter choked the land.

And winter choked me too. Even time was unable to fill the void. In fact, the colour of my world slowly dimmed grey. The universe weighed down on my bones, but my conscience continually fought the urge to give up. So, I look through the window, patiently watching the transient seasons fade, hoping my pain would too.

The once stark trees now thrived with flowers blooming into colours of life. pristine water, cascaded downhill, and larks warbled. Sun rose in a pool of crimson and salmon pink, spilling light all over the land and the white clouds. It was the dawn of spring.

And finally, I bloomed too. I found that one string of hope to hold onto, the one ray of light to awaken hope in me again. So, I look through the window, patiently watching the transient beauty of the seasons fade, secretly hoping that this time the beauty would stay.