The spring, such a perfect reminisce
of youthful play in sweet fields of bliss,
a myriad of dreams with wanderlust
a child's innocence of purity and trust.

The sun did rise and the bells did ring,
each day something new did bring,
worries and cares, so little so few,
think time, playtime, suppertime too.

The world spun as the spring's sun set,
the lad became as the child he slept,
in the dawn the summer's sun did show,
for these are the seasons of my soul.

The summer, a wondrous reflection
of friends and plans of perfection,
an experiment with life's finer things
a youth's excitement filled with flings.

The sun did rise and the clocks did tick,
living the day engrossed in the frolic,
my songs were sung and stories told true,
of friends, of pain, and of love too.

The world spun as the summer's sun set,
and the man became as the lad he slept,
in the dawn the autumn's sun did show,
for these are the seasons of my soul.

The autumn, in contemplation's awe
of all that will be and all that I saw,
living the dreams, planting the seeds
of what will be of my legacy's deeds.

The sun will rise and the sand will fall
each day for them I will do my all,
they are my dreams, dreamed anew,
A wife, two sons, and a daughter too.

The world will spin as the autumn's sun sets
an old man will be where the man had slept,
in the dawn the winter's sun will show,
for these are the seasons of my soul.

The winter, a time for peaceful reflect,
on a life I hope lived with little regret,
taking the time to enjoy life's attain,
living what's left before the wane.

The sun will rise just before the toll,
celebrate with me before you condole,
I want all to see before it's through,
I lived, I loved, and I played too.

The world will turn as the winter's sun sets,
just a memory will be where I once slept,
in the dawn His Son will show,
for these are the seasons of my soul.


© Joey Jones