Jia Zhenia

You were Autumn,
and I was Summer—

I thought I came to you
to learn the quiet wisdom of ripening,
how to soften into my fullest becoming.

But beneath our different seasons,
our souls were cut from the same cloth—
threaded with a knowing
older than time.

At first, I resisted—
the chill in your air,
the slowing of your light,
when I only knew how to bloom.

But something beyond us—
some unseen gravity—
gently took hold,

and drew us closer
until we could no longer pretend
we were separate.

So we surrendered.

To the lesson.
To the love.
To what this life had been quietly
waiting for us to feel.

And in that fleeting crossing of seasons,
we found
the sweetest tenderness—
a belonging so soft
it almost hurt to hold.

Our hearts knew,
even as they opened,

that this was borrowed time—

and loved anyway.