It's time for us to go to sleep,
to wait in time, for spring to leap.
One by one our leaves turn brown,
fall slowly of, and head on down.
Silently we stand and wait,
for Autumns hue will not be late.
The next to come is winters chill,
as we stand patiently on the hill.
If ever you seek where we are,
stop and pause, for we're not far.
Mother Nature needs a rest,
In spring we bloom, for birds to nest.
Seasons, I'm sure are rebirth,
as for all living things on planet earth.
Time will come and time will go,
but none will leave creations flow.
Written by Ray Sinclair on 17/09/13
© Ray Sinclair 2013
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem