The Season's Serenade
Spring is a wanderer, soft as a sigh,
With laughter that dances, like birds in the sky.
Her touch is a whisper, a gentle embrace,
She paints the world green, with flowers that chase.
Summer is bold, with fire in his eyes,
His voice like a thunderstorm, under hot skies.
He marches through days with heat in his stride,
Waves crashing loud, as warmth does collide.
Autumn is a poet, with leaves in her hair,
She sings in soft hues, a melody rare.
Her steps leave behind a golden trail,
Her breath carries stories of wind and of sail.
Winter is quiet, a shadow so still,
With frost on his lips, and snow on the hill.
He wraps the world in a cloak of white,
A silent guardian in the stillness of night.
