When tiny hands waved Winter goodbye
she didn't much care, she waved back,
laughed, and blew her fog and snow
right back in the air.
But Spring is here, we've met him!
The tiny humans said, pointing at fresh flowers
while the mountaintops were sugary white still,
making it difficult to tell what those two
were fighting about this time.
Winter met Spring again and this year
seemed to have pushed him and his warmth
his overwhelmingly colourful smile
away, tried to hide it behind heavy clouds.
What is it, Winter?, the humans wondered,
Why are you holding onto us this year?
The answer were winds that made them quake
down to their skinny, shivering bones.
Then one day, very suddenly
Spring took Winter's hand in his
and kissed the top of her knuckles,
melting her icy touch on Earth.
"Every year", Winter glared, "you undo me."
But Spring just beamed at her, rolled out
a carpet of flowers for her to walk out on
and replied "No more than you unravel me."
Winter made sure to let his feet freeze over,
walking out head held high, frosting a few flowers
and leaving imprints of the most beautiful sort,
marking the beginnning of Spring with cold.
Spring called after her "Until next time, sweetheart" -
ever ladylike, she showed him her proud, icy middle finger
(he laughs flowers, she spits snow, that's how it's always been)
leaving the grounds for Spring to charm and the air to tingle
with his too-warm, too-infectuous laugh.