A Season For The Thing Poem by Hebert Logerie
A Season For The Thing
There is a time for the rose
And a season for her to become
The thing. Sweet memories
From the past are always morose.
Time passes and transforms
It is linear and it does not age
The beauty of yore had a pretty shape
Now, the jewels are no longer there.
We do not know where have gone the youth
And the zest of the spring flowers in jubilation
Yes, there is certainly a season for the thing.
The thing, victim of time, without taking a pause
Will metamorphose into other strange phenomena
In manure, for the mountains, the hills, and the plains.
Copyright © November 2017, Hebert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Time for rose brings sweet memories of seasons. A pause will metamorphose into other strange phenomena. An amazing and brilliant poem is well penned.10
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5/4/2024 8:28:36 AM # 1.0.0.1119
A great poem that expresses the view that everything has its own time. An amazing write.10