A Time

I seem to remember a Time, a time with four Seasons.
Summer and Spring were sublime, and Winter and Fall gave me reason.
A Time of joy and joyness.
A Time where happiness and laughter were abound.
A Time with no distress.
A Time where no sadness was found.
Each season came and went, went and came.
When Winter was spent; spring, on it came.
Each season shared its life, no one took more than any other
So as to avoid strife and to care for one another.
This Time, it has past, and it seems that Father Winter is here to stay.
He comes each year a little to fast, as if we can't wait to play.
He stays a little too long, like an awkward friend who doesn't know when to leave.
He stays tho he does not belong and does his best to deceive.
A Time of cold and coldness.
A Time of heavy coats and jackets.
A Time where the out-of-doors are a mess.
A Time without any tennis racquets.
Now we can only dream of those Times of four Seasons
Of Summer Time ice-cream and Times of reason.
A Time, of Seasons.