Then The Seasons Come

A poem

In the forest of life, no trees are the same. From the caring Juniper to the brave Oak, they all have different names, but their aims remain the same.

Deep into the ground are the roots, the background, the history, the race, a legacy of routes, each of a different pace, but all leading to the same place.

Then the seasons come. Smiles, butterflies, and love, feelings as pure as a dove. it’s the summer, we’re bathing in the sun with the grin of a dreamer.

Then the seasons come. Breeze, wind, and feelings whisked to the bottom. it’s the autumn, leaves on the ground, hope in the sky, never ready for the next round.

Then the seasons come. Silence, void, and pain, feelings scattered in a splinter. It’s the winter, cold world in white, but lessons learned alright.

Then the seasons come. Then the light comes. Feelings playing the drums. it’s the spring, colorful dawn singing, world of beginnings.

Then the seasons come.