Autumn

like the middle child

is neither hot or cold

yet is caught between two seasons

 who loathe one another yet one cannot exist without the other.

When it is Autumn’s turn to shine

Winter exhales it’s frosty breath,

and Summer in return withdraws its warmth

leaving Autumn alone in the middle

unable to complain

with Spring inside the belly of Mother Nature

waiting to show off as a new born heralding a New Year.

Categories: My thoughts, Poetry

Tags: life, nature, poems, Poetry, writing