Her name is Seasons Change,
A love child of free spirits.
She fights her changing colors.
As cold as a blustery winter day,
Blowing through town biting mad.
A fury no man dares to tame.
In Spring, she is the face
Of flowers blooming and birds chirping,
Bright eyed with a glowing smile.
Hot and racy in the summer scorch,
Leaping naked in a sea mist,
Drowning blues in spirits and one-night stands.
Autumn brings balance to Seasons,
Rich in color, calm in emotion.
An early flake can spark a change.
Seasons migrates like a stray bird
In search of a comforting retreat,
A place to escape her haunting namesake.
Robert Stanhope started creative writing during his Junior year of high school. In his twenties, he became a motorsports journalist and was published in a number of local, regional, and national trade publications. Now in his early 40s, Bob has returned to creatively writing, including embarking on his first novel, The Last Lie.