The Seasons Of Me

~photo from morgueFile.com~

It' s summertime and the livin' is easy
Rolls the tune off the radio, playin' low
I bury my toes in the sand, pink flip-flops cast away--
They gave me blisters, but I had to have 'em,
And I jump up and run towards the blue sea
At the encouraging shouts of my friends.
Bright colors of bathing suits and umbrellas
Melding into vivid circus posters beneath my nearsighted gaze,
Hornrimmed glasses lying on the blanket safe from all the fun,
As I laugh and shout and splash and swim, free in my innocence,
Free in my trust of those I loved who cradled me in their care,
Free of reality and time, free to be a child with my own rhythm and rhyme,
Free to just be in the sweet warmth of summertime.


It's Springtime, and the world is changing, flowers are budding
And so am I, blossoming from a little girl into a beautiful woman,
Slowly, tenderly, at times painfully, trying a little bit of this and a little of that,
Painting my hopes and dreams in haphazard strokes of pastel shades upon Spring's canvas,
Illuminated before me as a richly flowered path of possibilities that I, the Queen, may walk,
Free to learn from my mistakes, the cool breezes of Spring refreshing and reminding
Of new beginnings and chances not yet taken and the freedom to choose to start again.
This heady power to turn my directions, turn men's heads,
To turn the merry-go-round again and again,
Delights and fascinates me, and I dwell in the blue skies and pink cotton-candy clouds,
It is Spring, all things are possible, and I revel in its beauty and newness and joy.


But now 'tis Fall, and I'm falling, failing, dealing, ailing, weeping, wailing,
As the choices I made so freely in the springs and summers of my youth
Mature into truth after serious, consequence-ripe, gut-wrenching truth,
And I begin to see amidst the ever-changing leaves my own reality,
How I spent too much time upon the gaily colored displays of life around me,
Engaging, giving, playing, straying, it's your turn, it's his turn, is it my turn yet? No;
That's ok, give yourself away, make everything okay, that was always my way,
I can wait, I can wait, I will wait....wait, where is everyone? Autumn leaves fall and drift
At my feet, beautiful in their living death, am I also in mine? I don't know, but I think
Maybe I am. The harvest season brings a mixed bounty, which I must declare as mine,
Lest I lie; the seasons bring a truth all their own, that none can deny or escape
I cannot hide from this shame and disgrace; it is in Fall that I am fallen from grace.


And now is Wintertime; all is white, cold, frozen, and silent, and I am surprised
There is no sense of loss; this peace, this quiet, this pure and holy time, when all
My stains have been washed away beneath a blanket of white velvet snowflakes,
Each one different and unique, to hide a different and unique sin of mine--so does that mean
I have found salvation? Is that why I am so cold? And so alone? If I were to walk barefoot
In the snow, like my Indian foremothers, if I were to place my toes down first, silently
Stalking my prey, would I find my life, on the hunt? Would I sneak up on it unaware,
Or would I recognize it, amongst all the other missed shots, some forty feet deep,
The way I would know my daughter's voices even now, after all these years,
Were they to break their silence, and call out to me from the halls of time?
 Let me sit here, a frail old woman wrapped in shawls of regret,
In a rocking chair by a frosted window, looking out far beyond iced branch and cold mist,
Seeing what only the frozen eyes of wintry death can see; that it is only love that lives on endlessly.

Reviews

[Pax]

Summer ~ a warm and playful fun...

Spring ~ a blooming beauty and a renewal of feelings....

Autumn ~ preparing for the cold rush... a shedding sadness at times...

Winter ~ cold, frozen in timeless sleep...

i find your words highly compelling and expressive...
a well thoughtout poem...

[Quattro Hall]

Tried to give you summer, but I'm winter
Wish I could make you spring, but I fall so hard
^^^^^^
Not mine but this made me think of a song.
Oh how the seasons change us as much as the world around.
I enjoyed Cat, again you use something we all can relate to express or describe.

[Pete Langley]

I normally find what I call conscience streams wearing. We all have them, and poets tend to poetize them, but yours is one of the exceptions for me. I found this compelling and involving, Cat. Thank you. P.

[Devanshu Rajput]

i agree with Pax.....you beautifully described the four lovely seasons in your own sweet way.....it was really very descriptive......i particularly like the lines of summer and of last stanza winter....image at last remembered me of cold winter which led us to wooly blanket and jacket.....you should enter more images for seasons.....let me suggest.....

For Spring:

http://www.fabulousnature.com/data/thumbnails/44/Pictures_of_Spring_85.jpg

For summer:

http://sr.photos1.fotosearch.com/bthumb/CSP/CSP990/k10553550.jpg

For autumn:-

http://sr.photos2.fotosearch.com/bthumb/CSP/CSP582/k5829414.jpg

Thanks.....for sharing the beautiful piece