Seasons Poem by David Baker

Hmm…
Ah, yes! Seasons.
Sorry. I digress for various reasons.

Well, winter is done.
Spring has sprung.
All the snow has melted away.
Soft carols are now sung,
by bright blue jays.

Wolves croon at the moon.
The red roses start to bloom.
Months turn from January to June.

And I walk the long road to nowhere;
as life goes past.
Will I ever see my true love at last?

Green leaves die.
Dark grey clouds
fill the off kilter sky.
While the winds
start to cry.

Seldom kind words spoken in tongues.
Factories pour out of the earth's tired lungs.
City lights cover the once starlit ceiling.
The waves displace with an un-measurable feeling.

Broken bricks,
cracked with sticks.
Pay the piper,
see if he can fix,
the melting mortar,
causing so much disorder
and distress...
Though, I must confess,
I lost my train ticket
of thought;
and I'm still learning how to learn
lessons I was never taught.
And as I look back,
I'm starting to doubt,
What was this poem really about?

Hmm…
Ah, yes! Seasons.
Sorry. I digress for various reasons.