Seasons of Love

He did not come cloaked in fresh spring lover's lust

Nor in a summer sky-lit shower of lunar stardust.

And with autumn's pallet of bronze radiant rust,

He painted purity with a winter's wet, white brush.

I found kindness there beneath the rousing rush

Of seasons falling, pouring pure down upon us.

Oh, clean washed heart, how sweet the muse

That teases thoughts and love reproves.

You are all seasons, my reasoned rhyme,

Cherished with tenderness throughout our time.

And through each season of smitten shy smiles,

I pray one more day of my desperate denial.   

-P.S. Colley

 Dec. 2024 

B.B. to the Next Generation

Gen X, Gen Y, and even Gen Z,

Please stop blaming your life on poor B.B.

We didn't invent hate.

We didn't invent war.

Actually, we believed first what you're fighting for.

For peace in a clean world

for us and our kin.

For unity, for harmony,

among all righteous men.

But especially for those

         who bear burdens of woe

To heal sweeter friends,

and forgive bitter foes.

For the enemy one fights is born

and lives deep within,

Falsely blames all others, 

as Mother Earth's nurture spins.

So, hear my advice,

Stand humbly in the rain.

Let disappointment wash away,

And from blame, please refrain.

P.S. Colley

August 2024