Spring’s salubrious skies
greets her wide open eyes
and fills them with brightness.
She opens her petaled wings
as the passing bird sings,
feeling an airy lightness.
The gaping green earth shows
much room for her to grow
and guides her in her climb
until her roots have built
beyond the mourning wilt
of her eventual decline.
Summer’s scorching shine
sooths her aching spine
slowing life to a standstill
until seconds are hours
and petals are whole flowers;
life a leisurely thrill,
but slow becomes reverse
and the heat becomes adverse,
no longer fine and fair,
her weathered skin breaks
and her spine once again aches
as the heat is too much to bare.
Autumn’s blustery glare
coldly whittles and wears
at the very green of her hope
until it is tainted brown
in a wilted frown
of an aged misanthrope.
But still there are odd rays
of times to be gay;
brief reminders of her youth
and yet after these spurts
reality alerts
in a manner cruel and uncouth.
Winter’s cold, frosty truth
slowly helps to soothe
her fragile blistering roots
as the end’s apparent
and her past is transparent
she forgets about old disputes,
and then the end is so swift
she feels an airy lift;
a thankfulness for closure,
and so none will cry
as she’s blown to the sky
in elegant composure.
