Four Seasons Poem by Mark Bell
Four Seasons
Pretty little birdies
Listen to them sing
Glorious harmonies
Oh it must be Spring
Roses red blossoming
morning warming sun
Children playing in the parks
Has summer really begun
Cold frosty mornings
Birds make the call
Leaf turns to golden brown
It's the start of the fall
Snowflakes appear
Then melt on the green
Winter is upon us
As it sets the idyllic scene
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/24/2024 9:39:25 AM # 1.0.0.1119
