ajwrites57

A Poet's Seasons A Poet hears the springtime rain, beating down, on window pane. To words he puts the pleasing sound, words to please, rhythmic round. A Poet feels the summer sun, beating down, on everyone. To words he puts the brilliant sight, words to please, shining bright. A Poet sees the autumn leaves, falling down, among the trees. To words he puts the colors’ glow, words to please, awesome show. A Poet touches the winter snow, flaking down, the season's slow. To words he puts the pulsing white, words to please, blinding light. A Poet smells the springtime flowers, growing now, in April showers. To words he puts the bursting hues, words to please, greens, pinks and blues. A Poet swims the summer seas, the oceans’ motions, foaming ease. To words he puts the salty glory, words to please, marine-life story. A Poet sees the fall time passes, back to school, for lads and lasses. To words he puts the lessons learned, words