The Seasons

Time goes slowly, when the countryside cold,
And icicles hang, like long beams of light,
That sparkle in moonlight, and burn if you hold,
The moon in the heaven's, a lantern so bright,
crisp crunching footsteps, will always sound clear
As moonlight is dimmed, in the cold country night,
By fast fleecy clouds, like frolicking deer,
And warm are the winds, that caress this mantle of white,
Dissolving so slowly, in the dawns misty steam
Whilst small frosty patches, that linger awhile,
Will slowly succumb, to a glorious green
That will herald the dawn, of springs earliest day,
When crocus and snowdrops, in clusters appear,
And leaves slowly dress, the trees lining my way,
As I walk country roads, when springtime is near.

by Gordon Gilbert Tully

Comments (0)

There is no comment submitted by members.