Your winter,
Your winter so pure,
Sometimes hurts hard to endure,
Yet I still believe that the white cure.
Your spring,
Your spring so vibrant,
Full of lives the dark silenced,
Remind deep inside never vacant.
Your summer,
Your summer so ripe,
Shines through all edges bright,
Soothes telling it's okay and alright,
Your autumn,
Your autumn so blustery,
Still it calms whistle a mystery,
Hope this remains and stay with me.
YOU ARE READING
42
PoetryI will keep writing until the chapter succeeds 41 and precedes 43. P/S : I do not own any of the illustration in this writings
