Seasons of Living
Even as winter ends,
the cold persists.
Morning awakenings
endure shadows of the past.
Everywhere
good wishes collapse mute.
Bouquet openings
become but empty vases.
Hesitant touches
forever pretend.
Intimate whispers diminish to
but a resonance of silence.
The simple music
of children's laughter,
the comforting essence
of rose petals beneath one's touch,
such finds captivity mere folly.
If Time were to stop,
might dreams of future
become nightmares of the past,
the taste of alum tinctures
forever yesterday's aftertaste?
If regret finds no escape,
and shackles of blame
hold firm inside walls of guilt,
might clouds remain forever without rain?
Time’s progress lets every day
serve its mission and allows lessons
to become tomorrow’s yesterday of experience.
Seasons of living continue providing
life’s hot and cold lessons as a bridge to wisdom,
making one’s vital spirit worthy of longevity.
Love ya!
Jane
budd