Seasons....

Come autumn, lead the jovial breeze,
upon my being, writhing in time's crease,
Slither swiftly, o'er the hasty bends,
this frivolity of fate, I can't withstand,

 What spoke those hermetic, pages o the past,
He be doomed, who treads in a delirious haste,
Stepped upon the boats, o the promising wonders,
and the future mocked, on that appalling blunder,

 The shallow currents, weren't so after all,
I concurred the depth, after the ghastly fall,
Silly dame, eyes the impending seasons,
hopelessly hoping, for continuance's reasons,

 Oh but these, be bits and fragments,
the beauty of existence, shall remain absent,
Wonder what the lovers mean, when they vow,
Do the seasons bless, and the affections regrow?

 (c) S.S


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