My Loves

Transitional Beauty Poem

In this time of seasonal transformation it seems natural to look inward and observe our own personal “seasons.”


img_4213Change is always there

On the horizon

Golden gilded hopes of sun

To faded wilted petals

withered leaves of loss

Bowing to the inevitable

Defeating slowly they fall

The crunch of crushed days

Rotting away, to decay

Cold winds cut like knives

Blankets of white fall

Dark days and long nights

Ice creates a shiny illusion

Green peeks out of white snow

Water rushes down over rocks

Nights begin to dawn

With promises of warmth

Hot sun yields blossoms

Bright kaleidoscope petals

Blue skies and patchwork clouds

Warm hopeful rays

Pledging happy moments.

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