by Wishes

The seasons slowly change,
And relentless winter will turn to spring,
And, standing on the verge of summer,
It will be easy to think
That the seasons are a cycle,
Repeating endlessly.

But seasons are only time,
And time is but an arrow
That travels ever onward
In one directions only.
Each season is a new one,
Not that of a year before.
Spring will recur, dear heart,
But this moment won't return.

by Wishes jkp@bright.net