Seasons of Love

No, this isn't Rent!

I wrote this poem at the Victory Center yesterday. It started out as a sentence I wrote, thinking about someone and then it just turned into an awesome poem.

And in the Winter, it isn't only the sun that leaves.

I'll be curled up, cold, wanting you here with me.

'Til in the Spring, born with brand new eyes,

There's a solemn truth I'll begin to realize.

That the Summer sun fakes love and wonder

With majestic rainbows and evening thunder.

So, in the Fall, I will sit alone and perchance,

A new hand may ask me to dance.

-Ashley DeNardo, 9/14, 6pm

Thanks, Aunt Brandie. I thought it should be realize, too! Just wasn't sure!