In Season
Youthful hair blows free,
Flows wild as the sea,
Soft as toes against the sand.
The days grow hazy;
The sun grows lazy;
Too soon, skin is fully tanned.
Too soon, school bells ring;
Grown up kids they bring;
Buttoned neatly are their clothes.
Crunchy leaves will fall,
Ripened harvests call,
Seasons come and then they close.
Copyright © Nicole Rodriguez | Year Posted 2014
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment