Poetry
Seasons of Memory
A poem in response to Poetry Playground Prompt #28
Sometimes nature mirrors our life’s journey, showing us the inevitable passage of our time through the changing seasons.
At forty, life bursts with midday sun —
bright and intense, yet the horizon is shifting.
Amidst the clamour of children’s laughter
and the steady rhythm of daily toil,
memories are made — each day a leaf
added to the thickening branches of the years,
colored with moments of laughter and quick tears,
all gathered under the watchful eyes of green-mossed hills.
At sixty, twilight beckons as the day cools —
subtle shades of grey mingle with the gold.
The house, once filled with youthful echoes,
grows quiet, save for the ticking of the old clock
and the rustle of leaves in the autumn wind.
Old photographs line the mantle, faces caught in time,
each a ripple, a pause, reflecting on roads
that wind through forgotten fields and overgrown paths.
