When it finally came, the season of spring,
I thought I'd enjoy everything.
But the singing of the birds drove me raving mad,
Insects in my house everywhere I had.
I sneezed every time I sniffed the pollen in the air,
By the end of the season, I was crying in despair.
Then came summer and parched me dry,
I prayed for rain but there wasn't a cloud in the sky.
A desert in the city my house became,
When my fan stopped working and my AC did the same.
Dying of thirst and drenched with sweat,
I decided that summer was the worst season yet.
With downpour and floods came the monsoon,
It gave no relief and was rather a bane than a boon.
With flooding in almost every street,
Driving was a Herculean feat.
Not knowing what to eat and what not,
Malaria and dengue was all this season brought.
As the mercury drops and laziness grows,
All through the day, it snows and snows.
When we wake up in the morning, it's dark and cold,
Still we go to school, for we do what we're told.
Throughout the day, I feel like an errant sleepy head,
So I believe that winter should be spent in bed
But then all seasons balance each other out,
And one should not sit at home and pout.
We should enjoy what each season has,
The snow and the rain, the sun and the grass.
We should go outdoors and not just loll,
And we'll find that seasons are not boring at all.
Comments about this poem (Seasons by Varun Sivashankar )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
William Ernest Henley
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings