Sonnet of the Seasons
The chill of autumn swiftly in the air
Its suffocation makes the summer die
And winter’s cold is much for me to bear;
I do not want to wait until July.
For leaves that once were lively choose to fall
Then rot on top the soggy, snowy ground
Until the spring when nature makes its call
So seasons once more make their trip around.
Skin is filled with goosebumps, they arise
When wisps of wind blow through October night
The start of it, a burden in disguise
As by the end, you’re left with thrill and fright
To be or not to be in this poor weather
That is the question; Me, I wish to go
I yearn to leave the coldness altogether
And savor summer’s splendor nice and slow.