All Seasons Time

Where are the flowers that used to bloom

In the sweet and sunny days of June?

Where are the lush leaves that used to sway

In the golden bowers every day?

Where the trickle of the bubbling stream

where flapping fish were readily seen?

All of them have left or gone to sleep

for safe and sound themselves they must keep.

From the fingers of Cold's wicked hand,

they hide away for they can't withstand.

After reflection I start to fear,

I may also have to disappear.

Between the wind and the biting frost

I fear that hope for me is now lost.

Just like them, I can't withstand this cold

So I crawl back into my warm fold.

There I rest my weary head, to wait

for warmth upon the appointed date.

I wait for spring to come right along,

and renew the stream's sweet, happy song.

Restore the flowers and leaves anew,

sprinkled with the warm, fresh morning dew.

Then when the sun is shining again

Out I'll plod from my warm winter den.

I'll greet the spring, and the summer too

For all the seasons have their time too.