The Seasoned Year.

WRITTEN FOR POETRY JAM

THE SEASONED YEAR

If seasons could be endless which one would you choose:

Which could you live with forever and which would you refuse?

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"They can keep the Winter" do I hear you saying?

May you're too past it for the snowballs and the sleighing.

But could you live without the cosy fire  to warm your toes?

Surely you'd miss the hot toddies and the stylish Winter clothes!

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In Summertime we get too hot and sweat runs down our faces

And little stingy insects make us itch in awkward places!

Ah, but think about the beach, and the suntan on your nose!

Surely you'd miss the glorious sun, and the stylish Summer clothes!

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In Autumn there's a dying feel that really gets us down

And the fallen leaves aren't colourful, they're just a soggy brown.

But what would a world without the Fall be like do you suppose?

You'd miss the the harvest bounty, and the stylish Autumn clothes!

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In Springtime we get hay-fever and cough and sniff and sneeze;

We suffer from the pollen blown from all the flowers and trees.

Ah, but think of the rising sap, the bluebell and the rose!

You'd surely miss the butterflies, and the stylish Springtime clothes!

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A one-season world! Imagine the same clothes all the year!

Get rid of the changing seasons? All women say 'No fear!'

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THE RED DRESS

If you are  going to do it, do it well!

If others scoff and titter what the hell!

Though your hair is surely greying,

If your hips are keen on swaying

And a nifty band is playing

You'll feel swell.

If you have still got rhythm let it rip,

While there's still a handsome gentleman to grip.

You can pick a four-leafed clover,

You can dance the Bossa Nova,

And feel pretty good all over!

What a trip!

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