How could you leave without a fond farewell
When gentle breezes stirred the buds of spring,
And carried forth their perfumed thoughts to tell
The timid feathered songsters then to sing?
But they sang without cheer throughout the May,
And their sad chorus echoed into June.
Nor could sunshine this melancholy stay
As summer sun gave way to harvest moon.
All summer did a cruel winter seem,
And autumn’s bounty brought its own despair.
Each season came like some unwelcomed dream,
And in departing, left its’ sadness there.
Yet though these memories still may beckon tears,
How strange the calloused hand of time endears.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.