What’s The Point?

I’ve watched the seasons change,

one day it’s beautifully cold winter,

and the next it’s humid summer.

I’ve watched everyone around me change.

As they become the person they are now.

And there’s no going back in time.

As I sit here and write a rhyme,

I think of the forever changing moon.

As my new normal leaves all too soon.

One day, it’s a lovely autumn day,

and the next the rain washes it away,

as spring begins her reign on the land.

The next day brings summer and her sand.

I long for the past, and the unimaginable future,

but what’s the point?

Summer only comes once a year,

and only once a year Fall celebrates.

Winter only reigns once every year.

And Spring only paints the land once.

What’s the point of wishing for the future?

When I can enjoy the swift breeze of fall,

as she begins to settle in, and summer leaves.

As distant Winter begins to weave,

a new story for the land, and its people.

As Spring begins to plan her next painting.

I’ve watched the seasons change,

and I claim to enjoy them all,

as everything is forever changing like the moon,

who watches the land with a smile.