Seasons are like moods,
Of a child,
Always changing,
With free will,
To suit their demands.
The season of spring,
Is like a happy child,
Always smiling and twinkling,
Bringing joy to everyone,
Watching them play.
The season of summer,
Is like angry child,
Always screaming and hollering,
To fulfil unwanted demands,
And satisfy their terrible tantrums.
The season of autumn,
Is like child,
Calmed down,
After terrible storm,
Or planning their next mischief.
The season of winter,
Is like gloomy child,
On verge to break down,
And in desperate need,
To be hugged and loved.
As the cycle of season ends,
New year begins,
With new challenges,
But cycle of seasons remains the same,
Like the moods of a child.
Of a child,
Always changing,
With free will,
To suit their demands.
The season of spring,
Is like a happy child,
Always smiling and twinkling,
Bringing joy to everyone,
Watching them play.
The season of summer,
Is like angry child,
Always screaming and hollering,
To fulfil unwanted demands,
And satisfy their terrible tantrums.
The season of autumn,
Is like child,
Calmed down,
After terrible storm,
Or planning their next mischief.
The season of winter,
Is like gloomy child,
On verge to break down,
And in desperate need,
To be hugged and loved.
As the cycle of season ends,
New year begins,
With new challenges,
But cycle of seasons remains the same,
Like the moods of a child.
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