The beauty of Spring gave rise to
Summer, who’s warmth and gentle days
brought us to....
No.
…how did it go?
Halcyon days of May blossom into
Summer daze, lazing into bounteous Fall.
Curling Autumn leaves shiver
on crisp....
Agh!
Wrong, wrong, wrong!
Spring sprung flowers and sun and rain.
And then, fledged,
bounded into Summer’s
heat, picnics, fun, and games.
Summer drifting, wanders into Fall.
Best known for harvest, yellow buses, colored leaves, and all.
Then Winter took
that which we knew, and covered it in silence quilting snow
and said,”Wait till Spring.”
Who knows.
Could be, that's the way it went?
But, likely, more like this:
The seasons passed.
Passed with no regard at all.
Until that day we placed a marble marker in chilling rain;
and talked about Springs, and Summers, and the Winters of life,
and how we hide the pain,
and how we’ll never be the same,
and we never are the same.
A fiction based in truth. But, in my family, we would never talk about the seasons.