The Final Season

an attempt to use fall imagery and gratitude as a metaphor

seasons tend to separate 

        by color when I contemplate

how our lives together 

        could not be much better

before we found each other, 

        winter gray was my brother

I trudged through lonely days 

        unaware of nature’s gaze

when first I saw your light

        ensconced in purest snow white

I no longer needed to range

        and my seasons began to change

then the virgin green of spring

        compelled my heart to sing

it filled my empty spaces

        with laughing, happy faces

and summer’s deepest green 

        paled to your rosy sheen

our path with swells and sags

        was lined with colored flower flags

now the final season

        reaches us with reason

colors burst in grandstand waves

        and we embrace each day’s craves

Reviews

[cartera]

Well-seasoned love, when two poepole 'just know'.
ATB
Alex.

[Tate Morgan]

I think this a parallel of your life and times am I right .Very nivce

[Tovli]

a beautiful nature poem--a wonderful use of imagery. tovli