Seasons

Seasons are lovely.

The ground sparkles bright.

Chilly air, visable breath.

And it is all white.

 

The smell in the air.

Rain falls and falls out of clouds.

The smell of the rain.

 

The fierce sun beats down.

Sweat drips from all the people.

Outside on those days.

 

Everchanging leaves.

Through the tunnel of color.

Cherish the beauty.

The End

5 comments about this poem Feed