Seasons

by rosross

These days they call

the Autumn of years,

are really no different

to those which would be

called a Summer or a

Spring, or even a Winter,

for, like the seasons, there

is the constant hold of our

being, and the changing

costumes, picked up each

day, dropped at night, found

again, and worn in different

ways. Through all the seasons,

earth, sky, tree remain as them

selves, but dressed in varying

ways, which give the feeling

that they are not the same, and

yet, of course they are, in essence

and form, the same as they have

always been. As are we ….

Moving house

Packing up the pieces
of a life now gone, soon
to be repeated, in another
home, and yet in the

moving, some things
will not last; different
time and spaces, their
own taste will cast.

In the ever-changing,
flow, of life and place,
there will be a change in
who and what you are.

Sift through those
belongings, treasure and
release, know they hold
no value, in any sense

that's real. People are
what matters, they're
the only plus - all the
rest will be reduced...

simply things and stuff.


https://dversepoets.com/