another year near its end
heralding in a sun that doesn,t warm,
yet pleases my face.
The seasons; like the pages of a much-loved novel
turn too fast and are soon gone;
The sounds of winter are near,
festive sounds of Christmas fill the air,
thoughts turn to spring.
Daffodils sleep through January,
waiting, waiting, waiting,
waiting for springs warm touch and another summer.
Yellow is the colour of spring,
Pack away the cold dark memories,
banish all signs of winter passed,
warm yourself on thoughts of summer.
another summer passing,
inviting another autumn in.