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Artwork by Ayesha Alshared



Trail of Seasons
By Habib Tabaja

In the ides of March

Our peculiar souls met in the walks of life

In a divinity I could not comprehend

And you smiled as the sun limned your face

At the end of a Beirut winter so sour


In the rains of April

You played me for a fool

And left for a gray London in a deluge of longing

Its broken cobblestone streets you walked alone

While my love for you grew with the spring grass


In the renewed hope of May

You danced under the brilliant Parisian lights

As you blew me kisses from a lone tower

To my prison in the East

Where I wrote letters to you in candlelight


In the promising joy of June

You toured the idyllic Alps

While papers and books buried my thoughts

But my love for you pervaded my dreams

In lonely nights where the heat disturbed my slumber


In the lazy nights of July

You ate cherries in the German countryside

As I wandered through the ghosts of my past

Trying to understand my devotion to you

In an argument with myself that I lost


In the dog days of August

You bathed in the Mediterranean sun

And meandered on the Greek shores

While I began writing poems for you on old paper

Gathering what I could explain in words and ink


In the vague lethargy of September

You grew weary in the Spanish olive groves

And dozed off under the shades of Iberian palms

As I painted my own perilous Odyssey

Drawing from the old books of Gibran and Poe


In the sudden chill of October

You walked through crowded New York streets

And spent long afternoons at corner cafés writing

While I burned your letters in the furnace of my mind

Wishing the ashes settled in the shape of your lips


In the early thunderstorms of November

You journeyed to a war-torn Damascus

And gathered what you could of its lost treasures

As I envisaged your presence in my dimly lit room

Yearning to drown in your emerald eyes once more


In the pale daylight of December

You drank coffee in the snows near Oslo

And braved blizzards to celebrate a festive Christmas

While the cold chained me to my bed

Turning each night’s sleep into a battle


In the bleak moonlight of January

You wrote back to me from a gloomy Prague

And collected souvenirs from the most obscure places

As I found shattered remains of hope in your lines

Pining for you like a sparrow to the return of spring


In the pensive weeks of February

You arrived back in Beirut with the storms

And drew a mosaic of emotions on my door

While I strolled with you by the tempest seas

Forgetting your promises of love that never came to be



Habib Tabaja is a Lebanese student in his sophomore year at the American University of Sharjah who is majoring in Finance with a minor in International Studies. Although he has a keen interest in his major in minor, he is extremely passionate about writing, literature, and music. He loves exploring both classical and modern literature as well as writing poems and short stories. He is currently writing a novel. His writing is majorly inspired by heavy metal, neoclassical, and orchestral music.  

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