Seasons

Summer is for the lonely
For the sun is their friend
It talks to them with warmth

Autumn is for the nostalgic
For the Irish in them, the love of the wake
After the mass funeral of midsummer moments

Winter is for the ignorant
For it teaches them of life
When the snowflakes warm their minds

Spring is for the birds
For all we do is pick their brains and imitate the bees
And make the same mistakes again

© Bill Healey

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