Autumn... Poem by Dustin Bradley

Thinking back upon my life, how seasons played a role,
Each one left a meaning still engraved within my soul:

Early one spring morning, the first, I was, to rise,
I looked upon my new room through exhausted little eyes;
Our clothes and toys in plastic bags, bare mattress on the floor,
Arriving only late last night, my life was bruised and sore;
My world was always moving, only discourse left behind,
Optimistic new starts seemed so distant in my mind;
Eight years on this earth now and with nothing I could do,
I sat there heavy chested over one thing that I knew;
To start again was futile, so lost within myself,
Because those who could control things were controlled by something else;

Summers in the movies showed us romance never lasts,
That's why summer comes up second in the seasons of my past;
Camping trips and late nights, adventures with my friends,
Random little love flings that I swore would never end;
Something about the freedom and the little time at home,
And getting lost with strangers so I'd never feel alone;
Thirteen years on earth now, yet twenty had gone by,
The anger built up so loud, but was way to proud to cry;
Spinning from the sadness came from losing all control,
The side effect of madness, from the summers, took its toll;

Yet nothing was like winter with the wet and rainy cold,
It soaked into my bones so that I'll feel it when I'm old;
Then, of course, that one day on December 25th,
The one you come to cherish with the love ones that your with;
Children, so excited, open presents, play with toys,
Parents sit with smiles at their credit purchased joys;
This day was always hardest as my mother faked a smile,
The numbness from the alcohol would help her for a while;
With all she could not buy us and the shame she must have had,
Pretending I was happy though my acting came off bad;
'Our toys are coming later', telling neighbor kids a lie,
But what I wanted most from Christmas was my mother not to cry;

Before the winter hits us, though, and grey shade covers all,
When fading summer nights close to the subtle days of fall;
The opposite of spring time when we shake off winters chill,
Is a time in which things slow down to an ever calming still;
The love for autumn holidays of which we could afford,
Like dressing up in characters of old forgotten lore;
Or sitting down together while my mother made the meal,
And truly feeling thankful over how it made her feel;
The coolness in the evenings, ember sunsets, fading trees,
A thrill from seeing pumpkins or getting lost in falling leaves;
So in my heart a fondness, over autumn, came to last,
And there it will remain, truly, the only season of my past...