Seasons

The warmth of concrete on a golden summer eve,
And the chill of concrete on a grey winter’s morn,
The way it feels changes with the seasons.
Whether cold or warm, joyful or forlorn,
One is not perfect nor better than another.
It’s simply a matter of difference;
Favored seasons exist as a concern of preference.
Warm days of sunshine and pensive days of rain,
Bright days of happiness, dark days of pain,
An opposite for everything, within a never ending range.
The reason for seasons and the reason for change?
There is something good within all life’s alterations
And experience to be gained in every frustration,
Strength to be built from every temptation.
Unearth the treasured moments with diligent fixation,
And enjoy their splendor to full duration,
But don’t love a season so greatly,
That you aren’t willing to part sedately,
To kindly say adieu,
And welcome the next debut.

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