The sky in spring in autumn looks the same

In spring it gives us joy, in fall we’re glum.

And so we play on in our little games.

The inbetween is hard to give a name.

Transitions, changes, fear of what’s to come.

The sky in spring in autumn looks the same

Have the gods deserted, who’s to blame?

If we cannot share our hearts go numb.

So we play on in our little games.

The human heart and mind are often lame.

Angered by the movements of the sun

The sky in spring in autumn looks the same

Can the spirits of our hearts be tamed?

Obsessive thoughts will linger and rerub

So we play on in our little game’s 

In spring life starts again, then what’s to come

But summer heat the flowers the bees that hum

The sky in spring and autumn looks the same

Round and round we go, for life’s a game

The tulips pushed the primroses away

They took the pot from these innocuous plants Nature is not kind in such display The powerful plants can do just what they want. However, I admire their flowers of red

The shape is elegant, the colour clear.

And had they been in a much bigger bed.

Both flowers would give us pleasure without fear.

And now magnolias pink my eyes adore

Two of them I see from off the bus.

A visual parable, a story for

The short sweet life of all including us.

We deceive ourselves in order to survive.

But shallowness makes trivia of our lives

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The flowers you brought me one day died.

And you died.

I am here alone.

Oh, where are you?

My tears are watering the grass.

The ants dance about in intricate movements

The flowers will die again

How insecure I feel now I’m bereft .

How grief feels more like fear than I had known

What can this world mean when you have left?

That panic grips the heart, I’d never guessed.

I wish my suffering  heart would turn to stone

How insecure I feel now I’m  bereft.

Through these awful thoughts my mind will drift

Alone, alone, unloved, alone alone.

What can this just world mean, when you have left?

The nonsense and the sense flow by me swift

How insecure I feel now I’m bereft.

In this my writing there is not much craft.

My fingers  shrink  and feel like corpse’s bones

What does this sombre world mean since you’ve left?

How can we live when all we love is gone?

We create it, live until we’re done

How insecure we feel when we’re bereft

The pillars of our world have fallen, demons laughed.