The Seasons of Life

Things are changing as quickly as the leaves

Crashing down around me as they fall of the trees

I’ve never been a big fan of change

Neither has tom, the neighborhoods stray black cat

Before they die I pick a flower

The pages will turn but i will stay, in the pile of leaves I lay

Rolling in the golden crunchy pile tom lays

His joy will remain in the leaves

I pick up the petals of a once alive flower

The wind takes it away to the top of a tree

Appearing in the trees is the mad hatters hat and the cheshire cat

Day turns to night and the moon hangs in the sky as the seasons change

My sadness isn’t apparent until the seasons once again change

On the leaves the powdered snow begins to lay

Wipe your shoes on the mat and warm up with the inside cat

Soggy and brow, the snow again changes the leaves

The white cold dust weighs down our trees

And sure enough to be gone is the pretty purple flower

The snow begins to melt and gasping for sunshine is the flower

The warmth of the sun is a much needed change

Creating mud, snow drips down the branches and off the trees

Watering the grass, sinking into the ground it starts to lay

Once again turning green, and the bright luscious leaves

And returning to my porch for shelter is the stray black cat

As he lays on the porch, the black cat

I watch him smell the fresh spring air and in the breeze,soil from the flowers.

Still soggy from last year, drying in the sun are last years leaves

My winter clothes are put away because I’m excited for the change

I join the cat, on the porch we lay

Whispering us a calming melody is the gentle droopy trees

Now it’s summer and turning bright are the trees

Basking in the sun are all the neighborhoods cats

At the pool while the kids are playing mothers sit in the warmth and lay

Blooming everywhere are bright colorful flowers

Caterpillars curl up and start to change

Sitting in the trees just me and my peace I pick and tear a few green leaves

Into shorts and tank tops I change

To cool of I brush the black cat

For him to smell I pick a flower

His eyes quint, his nose starts to scrunch and he sits in my arms, his final place to lay

I can feel his heart stop but I know he’ll be safe with the dead leaves

Always returning next year in the big oak tree

-olive