The Seasons

The Sun looks as if it is a large smudge of yellow and orange in the distance.
Summer at it’s peak, and the heat shows no resistance.

When fall arrives, trees start changing as leaves go flying.
Ironic how the prettiest time of year, is when everything is dying.

The winter’s snow comes at full force, with a chilled blast,
Some wish for it to go away, some wish for it to last.

The scent of flowers and rain linger in the air,
And you know that spring is finally there.

Every season is different in it’s own special way,
each year giving children new and fun ways to play.
Though they can be loved, and they can be hated,
each season has traditions, that can never be outdated.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem