Sixty seasons witnessed,
Wishes for Autumn to linger,
Spices converted into chemicals,
My mother so often lit.

School-focus fades with the leaves,
Strange dread gifted with the snowing season,
Sardonic religious banter,
to futile church pleads.

High in the sixties,
Yet yearning for thirty,
Patio setups,
Alarm clocks outnumbered,
Brief chirping for morning.

Complains abruptly frequent,
Impatience for the end,
School bells and teenage screams,
The privilege to say,
Sixty-four seasons witnessed.

And begin again.