Seasons of the heart

Can one man be blamed for all?

For the autumn, for the winter

And for fall

These Days

These days I mostly think

Am I such a bad person?

For all that she says and thinks

Could there be a valid reason?

Was I inconsiderate?

In all my dealings

Was it that I might have hurt?

More than just a few feelings

Answers meet a few questions

And I gasp for breath

Then behave upon seeing her

Like we have never met

And she calls to tell me

That it isn’t my fault

But then she writes again

To tell me, she was wrong