Changing Seasons
 
 
Spring came to stay, one Sunday afternoon,
No more to be denied.
It broke with brutal light
Upon my world where withered hopes
Endured the grayness.
It crept into the hollows of my soul
And mocked the atrophy of life’s regrets,
Invading without shame my winter fortress.
You came that day, in all your shining youth,
To spend an afternoon,
Remembering a time
When spring was welcomed as you played
And gave life meaning;
Remembering the girl I used to be,
And saddened that too much was yesterday,
And wanting more for me than just survival.
And on that day, that Sunday afternoon,
You brought me budding plants
And baskets full and green,
To hang again as once they bloomed
And spiced the morning.
We worked together and put in the roses.
Their colors seemed to fuse and heal my heart.
Or was it you again, my precious son?

 
                                              Donna J. Stone  


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