Early September

A poem about the changing seasons

Spring summer winter and fall
Live long enough and you’re bound to see them all
Bare limbs, leaves and cold
It’s the winters that make us grow old.
Heavy breezes, changes, and questions
Do you feel the Fall making suggestions
To his summery friend
Whispering, “time to lay down, this is the end.”
He smiles, closes his eyes and Summer dies
The cool air blows in for awhile to stay
The long rule of the sun slowly fades away
And here I am in September writing the song of the seasons
They change like me, changes always have reasons