Every season
In nature’s bent,
Finds purpose
For renewal,
That celebrates
Each wont advent
Not as infinity’s rival
But a cycle of revival…
Yet we creatures
Suffer brevity
Of a single stay,
A hoped-for reach
Though time decreed
Life be held brief,
And so ephemeral
Deemed beg amend
Wouldst be in vain,
To imitate seasons
That never fully fade,
Thus likely reason
Life then returns again!
Poetry on a canapé 
Lovely.
Thank you Paulette, and if I might add, at least for the seasons, and lovely for us they do indeed return. Jean-Jacques
I have come back to this post several times. I have been away from blogging to be with my family as we go through my father’s papers, libraries, notes and correspondence.
“Life then returns again….”
What a beautiful statement, especially for me as I remember my father. The sum of a person’s life is not in things, but in thoughts, ideas, words. I am so glad that you have chosen to share your poetry with us.
My condolences to you and your family Rebecca…! I can surely empathize and share your sentiments having experience the loss of my own father, but in distant memory now for I was eleven at the time. Nevertheless the memory stays.
I am indeed very touched that my poetry should have a measure of substance for you at such a time, and I thank you for your kind words, my very dear friend. Jean-Jacques