Seasons Past

Bound is the significance of autumn’s course Perished in Decembers cold, And a symbol of its thoughts and deeds Shall go to they imagined, But I lay on a bed of polished silk Staring at an evening star And hoping for winters passage Trees ever sway in this calm breeze Gracing the air of the cool night, And moonbeams dance to songs that are played While signs of twilight change, Cast out a mark from banished light That shall melt the winter snow Under the softer rains of spring Emotions dwell in the fallacy of life, Like the whisper of a child’s tear, When a meaning limited to its own intent Remains in our desire; Come to see a seed take route In the quiet of the morning dew As summer slips away