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St. Patrick's Day was green with delight,
a Parade down Fifth Avenue echoed in a birth
of a new child to be the poet of her own heart
with a scope of vision clear and the horizons
of her youth.

Cold and rainy, afternoons in a brick building
of endless stairs and catacombs beneath the
dark and dangerous cellars
that lurked spiders of all sorts.

The long and hot summers spent
chasing the butterflies of City life
and licking ice cream pops
that dripped carelessly away.

Autumn and the harvest time
of crackling leaves beneath our feet
and pumpkin pies and Halloween
costumes of delight.

Winters cold came in a flash and
found a home to be,
of snowman covered wishes
upon the ground so gray.

And now I'm facing the second
half of a century
with hopes aspirations,
anticipation and insecurity.

And all those season of my youth
are gone like ripples of the sea
and I look out and smile for
all the memories of time upon time
and dances in the March winds.

And perhaps the spring and summer
may never return again,
and autumn is a place to be
until the winter of my life.

Learn more about this author, Kelly Steier.
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