Seasons

There is a time to celebrate laughter
The joyful meeting of friends.
But all too painfully obvious, is such
Good things eventually come to an end.

Not to blame each other’s faults
Or to suggest a lack of care.
Not even to imply the fact
That your help was never there.

Seasons come ever so furiously
Then a whimper as it does pass
Like the seasons which we welcome so
Or pray be gone its terrible wrath.

A tearful hug, a warm embrace
The feelings we wish were true
Let not hurtful words sting us both
As we bid each other adieu.

Let’s chalk it up to experience
To time well spent, and then
Perhaps in the not too distant future
We can resume again as friends.