Poem; Seasons.

Every second of every minute
Of every hour I watch the
Seasons pass, through my
Window panes, come sun, snow
Or rain.
Spring is best when bulbs begin
To show, and grow into tulips
And daffodils, and buds form
On the bare branches, so enchanting.
Summer brings the sun when my
Roses are in bloom, I can see
Them from this room. And your
Bush bearing big blue trumpet
Flowers, I could look at for hours.
Bees buzz amongst the flocks,
Mother would have loved so much,
Pink, white and blue, smelling
Of scent the whole day through.
And butterflies flit here and there
Through the warm air, so beautiful
To see, they mesmerise me.
Now here comes Autumn with
A glow on it's face, turning leaves
From green to red, mists begin to
Rise, right before my eyes. Apples
Can be found littering the ground,
The last of the blackberries picked,
And mushrooms appear every year.
I know when winter is here,
When north winds blow and we shall
Have snow, and icicles hang from
The shed, shining in the poor light,
My delight. Snowflakes fall silently
Down, covering the ground, and
Everything is coated in white, what
A sight to behold, worth more than
Gold. And Christmas is on it's way,
Any day soon, with all that it brings,
Decorations up and many things
Hidden away, for the great day.
Yes, I watch the seasons come and go
From my chair, wishing I was out there.
Augustine Nash.