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The Seasons

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The seasons come, the seasons go,
From summer’s sweltering heat,
To winter’s soft, yet sometimes harsh, snow,
Never changing, always going to come,
Observed not by all, but by some.

Love is the same way as the seasons, always there,
People getting hurt and tending to look upon love without care,
Those who are strong enough will carry on,
Even when green grasses deaden on the lawns.

They know the whole truth of love, of what it can bring,
Any moment of the year, especially during spring,
The time of year when everything becomes new,
Soft leaves dripping with a new morning’s dew.

Each day forever dawns, even in death, after the Earth’s passing,
Love will continue to be everlasting,
No one can expect love to come to them, that is greedy,
It will come to the needy.

The people who stop looking and sit quietly to await its warm embrace,
Those who quit playing the cat and mouse chase,
Where people fail is that they wish to turn their back,
That is a big mistake, because true love they will forever lack.

Listen to the feelings, the beatings of your heart,
The day will come when you know when to start.

Until then, watch the seasons, watch them flow by,
The feelings of nature are enough to make any soul cry,
Refer to those who care, who will always be there when you‘re not strong
And with their help, with support from the seasons, you will carry on.





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blackamethyst said...
Aug. 3, 2009 at 6:13 pm
I like this poem, especially your ability to relate love to the seasons
 
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