Seasons That Don'T Exist

It is cold in the Winters woods As I walk through a land, Brown bark, green branches and white snow Silver scars on my hand. I have seen the grave of Autumn I have heard Spring's last cry, I have found the blood of Summer The day she came to die. Now I walk through the Winter's woods Treading on ground of graves, I have forgotten all that died All killed by winter's waves. Colour never was but silver Snow clad brown trees with green, The sun never shone on this land A blossom was never seen. Myths and mysteries they became Winds with an Autumns twist, Spring's perfection, summer's daylight Seasons that don't exist.