Your Season

The quiet willow softly blossoms,
With her gentle blush of red,
Love's tender touch so shyly felt,
Through sunshine spilled overhead.

It happened back in springtime,
When fresh blossoms showed their face,
Their fragrant delicate beauty,
Softly held your warm embrace.

Then came nurturing rains of summer,
Mists of change filled the air,
Soft heard such gentle whispers,
Your true kind and loving care.

Autumn breezes brought you closer,
Warm bright colours transform so free,
By season's journey I had discovered,
All you've come to mean to me.

Starless nights, draw ever countless,
As I breathe chilled winter air.
At my lips your echo lingers,
Silence're not there.

Willow moments as this flicker,
Through dreams, your candle burns,
This light for you; forever,
Your season never turns.

by Elaine Sept

Other poems of SEPT (2)

Comments (1)

the last line misled the real reason for writing this poem. How long we should have this experience and how many generations must experience to find the same misdoing? what is the remedy?