A Poem (7)

It’s autumn time.
Leaves are falling.
Streets are wet.
Puddles are forming.
Shadows are growing.
Light is fading.
Colours vanishing.
It’s winter time.
Trees are bare.
Streets are cold.
Puddles are freezing.
Shadows are constant.
Light was stolen.
Colours hidden under white.
It’s spring time.
Leaves are growing.
Streets are blooming.
Puddles get warmer.
Shadows become shorter.
Light is brighter.
Colours everythere.
It’s summer time.
Leaves are green.
Streets are living.
Puddles are withering.
Shadowtime is short.
Light is warm.
Colours are exploding.
It’s autumn again.
It’s winter again.
It’s spring again.
It’s summer again.
And so it goes,
year after year.
Only slightly changing.

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