Seasons

Seasons

Amid the rotting and decay

It shows such an amazing display!

Green, orange, red, amber, brown

A reddish sky at sundown.

Warmer clothes, hats and coats.

The time of year for sore throats!

Harvest away some veg and fruit

Hibernation is in pursuit.

Evenings' darker, gain an hour,

Another years’ flown by somehow.

Hail and storms with a strong breeze,

Leaves have fallen from the trees.

It’s looking frosty, it’s getting chilly

Sub zero, minus something degree,

It’s started to get even colder;

A scarf now covers all our shoulders.

Winter time, virgin snowflakes,

All six sided, no mistakes!

Sit cosy and warm with lit fire inside

And sleep through all yuletides.

It’s slippery in the freezing rain

A New Years’ been and gone again.

And as it thaws and slowly melts,

A warmer feeling has been felt.

And soon it’s the March equinox

We lose an hour on our clocks

The planted bulbs and the pretty flowers,

Awaiting rainbows and April showers!

A different colour a new hue

All reborn and renewed!

It’s looking pretty, green and lush

Spring time cleaning and paintbrush!

Perennials start to push through

Listen out for the first cuckoo;

Blossom flowers fall all askew;

Bluebell woodlands purple-blue.

It’s getting hotter, we feel the heat

Sandals worn for our feet!

This new warm season just begun

Sizzling in the summer sun!

 It’s humid now and we all frown,

A dip in the sea to cool right down!

We rub lotion deep within

So that rays don't burn our skin.

And if we’re lucky a holiday,

Something different, time away.

Lazing in the glorious weather,

Relaxing with some time together

Now the evenings are quickly cooling

Darker evenings there’s no fooling.

It’s now the September equinox,

We gain an hour on our clocks.

Back home now the wind and rain

It's all so hard to ascertain

Older by another year,

As autumn leaves they reappear.

Amid the rotting and decay -

Such an outstanding colour display!

See the fireworks; stars in the sky.

I wonder how and wonder why?

Copyright Linda Lawrence

Autumn 2018

Busker

Busker

He stands outside the shopping mall, his eyes they tell a story

And through the sadness of his face, he didn't find his glory;

He almost goes unnoticed but was born with such a gift

As another song is sung, his guitar finds a tuneful riff.

He's been around for many years, took his songs so very far,

Acoustic sounds that echo - through many people’s hearts.

Some well known, some sad or happy but always played with gusto

And each and every time he plays, he puts on a perfect show.

People pass, some may stop, or throw loose change into his cap

And others might dance to his music and afterwards might clap!

They listen to the lyrics and all between the lines

Life hasn't been so good lately and there have been some better times.

He takes a breath, strums gently, takes some time out to recover,

Where would his life been now if he'd had been discovered?

A soulful voice, full of love and emotion but some people stop and stare

At the busker, who doesn't ask for much, just some time if you can spare?

To listen to his songs he sings in the cold outside some shops;

He would of done anything to find fame on Top of the pops!

Stardom wasn't meant to be as he plays in this market town,

Hoping the weather will not turn wet, drench him through and let him down.

He wishes he could turn back the clock and try a second time -

While youth was on his side and he was fit and in his prime

But through the tired wood and strings, the ballads never die,

Still very much alive but see the tears within his eyes.

The buskers' chorus now distant as shoppers keep on walking,

They had little time to stop and give - then carried on with their talking.

I wonder why he spent time today to sing in our home town,

In spite of lack of interest, he'll be here until sundown.

By the end of the day a few quid has been counted from the donations in his hat;

All the years he spent writing have fallen a bit flat,

But hence to say, he did perform, there were some that heard

And just to let you know, I hung on to every word.

Copyright Linda Lawrence

9th November 2018