Poetry

Seasons

To everything there is a season,
Someone wiser than I has said.
Spring when you wake in the morning,
Winter when you go to bed.

I’ve seen babies with December eyes,
When surroundings frost too soon,
Yet others though their hair is gray,
Have stopped the clock at noon.

The changing times are constant,
The paradox alludes,
Whether inward soul knows Spring or Fall,
Is really up to you.

Still after Spring has sprung,
And Autumn falls away,
There’s a longing to go back again,
To relive long lost days.

While looking back is very fine,
It simply shows where we’ve been.
There is joy in the here and now,
New memories about to begin.

The trick is to live in the moment,
Drink in the present scene.
Don’t worry about what’s ahead or behind,
But enjoy what this season brings.

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