Marcy

The morning starts with a chill in the air,
As the seasons begin to change,
All to soon the winter will come,
While our perceptions rearrange,
We raid our closets for warmer clothes,
Preparing for the months with snow,
Looking at the seeds we planted,
Knowing in the spring they’ll grow.
 
 
In the stores ahead of time,
They change what’s up for sale,
Shorts are changed for full length jeans,
As our clothes colors seem to pale,
With the fall we usher in,
The coming holiday seasons,
Knowing that cold temperatures,
We avoid for different reasons.
 
 
We keep warm inside our clothes,
Though we enjoy a burning fire,
As we look back to warmer days,
And our inner most desires,
Different people for different seasons,
Some for warmth and some for cold,
And as the seasons transition slowly,
Is it memories that we hold.
 
 
We tie those memories to past events,
Because we know they’re moments gone,
And as the temperatures climb or drop,
Those memories follow along,
In the air we smell a fragrance,
A spring that smells of pears,
And with the smile that follows,
Is a whisper that no one hears.
 
 
Raindrops fall from a cloudy sky,
And from a storm that rages within,
While in the air we see and feel,
Which season soon begins,
In the air we sense a promise,
That the cycle spins it’s way,
As all the colors of autumn,
Will allow the winter to have it’s say.
 
 
Inside the air lives tomorrow,
While a memory holds yesterday,
And things we found some years ago,
Each season have their say,
In the air we might feel a chill,
As a whisper of love we hear,
And that love lives with every season,
That Love lives in the air.

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