She sprouts on a blissful day,
the sky a pastel blue,
In grassy greens and bright sunbeams,
she's given life anew.
With lofty trees and buzzing bees,
and a hundred birds to sing,
She blossoms like a fragrant flower,
her youth - a tender Spring.
Time flies by, and up she grows,
reaching the age of her prime,
With the golden fibres of her dreams,
she weaves her sunny time.
Around cheery flowers, in distant towers,
with the sun and rain together,
She triumphs her womanhood, oh, with grace,
in the Summer weather.
The prime now gone, no noon or dawn,
the dazzling sun no more,
Painted in shades of orange and brown,
are leaves crunching at her door.
Like the fallen leaves and mighty heaves,
she witnesses losing her charm,
Yet, with a crisp and crackling smile,
she accepts the Autumn's arm.
In the drifting snow, and a frosty bow,
she lies - all cold and dead,
Waiting for the long-lost heat,
she retires in Winter's bed.
Little does she know, that she,
will grow and renew the chain,
And bit by bit, with all her heart,
she will live her seasons again.
Poetry and Paroxysms
Welcome to my world of words :) In my writes you'll find me. I hope you find yourself here too.