the game

Playing under many a tree,
Sun smiling upon them with glee.
Running through soft glowing meadows,
Enjoying the summer with plenty of fellows.
Times are passing without notice,
Soon enough it is the summer solstice.
Not long winter shines its cold pale face,
As if Jack Frost knew what was about to take place.
Over the meadow snow will surely fall,
Slowly enveloping all.
Many changes do occur,
Time passes in a blur.
That quick devil time is,
This game is always the same through the ages.
Sun and light,
Versus dark and night.

midnight writer