Is it mere coincidence that spring,
Much like a child, is born tender,
Fragile, and mild, then grows and
Blooms with skin soft as petals and
Blushed cheeks that match their tone?
Might it be chance that summer comes
On as headstrong as a youth? Wildfires
Raging all throughout, not easy to control.
Some of life's sweetest memories can be
Found in this season, and the rising summer
Of man's short life too, is splendid for this reason.
Strange that autumn starts colorful and ends
So bare and ashen. Leaves wrinkle and fall,
And in parallel, mens skin and hair do the same.
Trees become tired, and flowers are faded,
But life and beauty remain coursing inside.
Winter reigns always as the most sombre of seasons.
Both man and earth are frosted white as they prepare
For slumber. This time is opportune to sit reflecting
By the fire on all the things that have now passed.
Stay warm and in good cheer my friend, as this season
Is your last.