When fond Spring returns like a Grand Circus
Rolling-in to a gray desolate Town,
It's Monet fresh Colours gilding the eye,
The Out-Laws of Winter now all but flown,
And a clear Birds Egg of Blue fills the Sky
Where the Robin Heralds the coming feast,
By a soft Warming Breeze to thaw the Soul.
It just says : I carry on. As must we.
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Author:
Kevin Hulme (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 30th, 2026 19:12
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
- Users favorite of this poem: arqios
Offline)
Comments1
And let's carry on! Need this right now as autumn tightens its grip here 🍂🍃🍁🕊️🙏
Oh dear . Completely forgot about the Season elsewhere. Thanks for Reading.
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