The Seasons Come
The Seasons Go
Much Like The Life
Of Persephone
My eye views the seasons
That come with every year
My life helped create them
As mother shed her tears
I view the two with hats on
and see they are quite young
enjoying time together
where springtime has begun
Their lives are just beginning
Like vegetation in the spring
My return from the Underworld
And the rejuvenation that it brings
Adults draw near my likeness
To relish the summer months
A man walks by in shorts
My statue he confronts
As moss makes its way
Up my northern side
Folks in summer attire
Enjoy the warmth of the time
With summers end fall begins
The leaves begin their change
The beauty of this season
Is like Its all been prearranged
This period brings the harvest
An old woman fills her bins
A man stares at the dead tree
Where the dark trail soon begins
And I'm back to the underworld
It starts the winter season
When soil is baron and death appears
My mother knows the reason
And because of mortality
All lives will end we know
Hence the vision in my eye
Of the cemetery in the snow
But season truly never end
My return to earth starts spring
And my eye will always admire
The beauty this painting brings
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem