Fours Seasons | Seasons of Life, Poem

Well, its all blossoming up as monsoon is approaching. I am told about it by some people in Mawsynram. Since 1600 BC (? Well that's the time first poem was written as per wiki), monsoon has been considered to be the most wonderful time for love. I don't know why. It feels lovely whole year. In other words, hot or cold weather can't stop you from having fun. Ahaan! Anyway, let's move on from your devil's smile. Time and again poets have been associating seasons of the year with seasons of their lives. Summer is considered to be the most beautiful season in Europe. Europeans love soaking some sun. the summer sun , sipping in bacar-didi rum. Europeans love summers. Delhi... Europeans never visit Delhi in summer, they don't want to be dumped so badly by their love.

four seasons of life poem - gvsparx

Enough of poor jokes for the day. Let's be a little considerate, and come back to the bliss of monsoon. Monsoon is certainly the most beautiful part of the year. We live in the age where everything is polluted(that applies to our heads too). The rain is God's way of replenishment. He wipes out the enviornmant of all the filth and makes it look beautiful again. What you would see in a lush green garden on a Sunday morning at 5(if you ever get up by then)? You see dew on the green leaves, and like tiny diamonds sparkling on the flowers. There's color between green and yellow that is known to be most soothing to the eyes. The only place you can find that color is in the new baby leaves. So if you're suffering from myopia, hyperopia, astigmatism or likes. Do visit the garden nearby before your ophthalmologist's appointment. Nature offers us a lot to see, admire and wonder about.

As I fall in love with the beauty all around, I try to associate melancholy of loss, bliss of desire in words titled Seasons of Life. Life is running in harmony along the two parallel roads of melancholy and bliss, never meeting, never parting and never ending.

Seasons Of Life

Whenever winter wind chills me through,
I don't look for shelter, I look for you..
My cold soul yearns for warmth of your arms,
But I can only shiver to keep me warm..

Whenever autumn evades me through,
I don’t look for truth, I look for you..
For you to assure that the withered will green again,
But they fall down to be swept away by the wind of change..

Whenever summer sun scorches me through,
I don't look for shade, I look for you..
My lips yearn to be touched by you,
But only my eyes can cry to quench their thirst..

Whenever rain drenches me through,
I don’t dance anymore, I look for you..
For you to dance splashing water and, sing weird songs,
But today I gaze at the drops that fall down from the skies..

and from the eyes..

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