As I glance throughout my window, I can see the change of seasons.
The verdure of the summer leaves, now tawny with the autumn fall.
And with the end of summer, I ponder then the change and its reasons.
As the summer breeze, now becomes a brunt of gale that is to befall.
A sudden change, that leaves me alone in my platitude.
Lost in this whirlwind of thought, lie my humbleness and modesty.
Within this befuddled confusion, that is my solitude.
Like the gales that brush the trees stray, my happiness and certainty.
I retreated in such an odd and bewildering osmosis.
With the coming of fall, means my body shall dwell in lassitude.
Guided by a feckless sense of manhood so orgulous.
With the change of seasons, I shall dwell upon another vicissitude.
Comments about this poem (Vicissitude by Franc Rodriguez )
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