By Daniel Healy
Lollipops of honeydew melon remind me of sustenance,
An isolated grove, a river, of complete and utter ambience,
A habit of playing the jolly go-lucky, with the synthesising Sun,
But then it soon begins; the seasonal treason.
Its said to look like rain clouds blistering from the East,
An individual complex, of rain splashed scenery,
But when I look around me the only thing I see,
Is a haze of heavy mist and a gut disparity?
When September turns to raindrops, while summer turns to snow,
When amber leaves litter spring, and Winter’s light can’t seem to show
The intricacy of feeling seasons, in grandeur and in difference,
Returns here the seasonal treason, to remind of the things I miss
You can globe-trot to the North, to follow the fleeting Sun,
You can scurry to the South, to see what it has become,
East for Sandy daydreams, and West to bless the sky,
But chasing misplaced mishaps, is sure to cause a sigh
For the sun will surely come again, on time in mid-July,
So, don’t be frightened of the clouds, that hide the bright blue sky,
For the treason of the seasons, can be surely fixed,
By reaching out to those we know, who know how to clear the mist.
Photo by Daniel Healy