SEASONS
I was born into the pastel of Spring
But lived so long in Winter’s grey
That I forgot almost how to sing
Or how to dance the night away.
Our life it seems is into seasons divided
Not measured out like those of nature’s
Some are overburdened, rather lopsided
Others have short swiftly moving features
Years of Winter’s stormy chill
Gentle Spring blooming in an instant
Indolent Summer so tedious and still
And Fall a hurried picking – reminiscent
All in all it rounds out full
Although unbalanced be,
So when it’s time to say goodnight
It’s a fine furled farewell to thee.
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