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Seasons Come
Seasons go.
Is it just the weather,
Or something that you said,
Why for or whenever,
It’s only in my head.
They say a biorhythm,
It can accelerate mind changes,
Or maybe deeper far within,
It’s meeting up with strangers.
It seems it can turn on and off,
Changes day by day,
Excuse me if I cough,
I’ve nothing else to say.
Seasons come seasons go,
I walk through thick and thin,
Very often I don’t know,
If to cry or grin.
Past the hollows and the hills,
Far beyond the ranges,
Up above the thrills and spills,
There are constant changes.
Lead me up the garden path,
Walk into the water,
Messages from up above,
Tell me that I ought to.
Stage a rapid walkout,
Disintegrate the door,
Let me see you use your clout,
There’s much more there in store.
Turn my world upside down,
With explicit exchanges,
And then board the last train out of town,
Destination, rapid changes.
©
David Rudder
2024
Thank you for reading this piece and my poetry.
