Changing of the Seasons

A poem about the changing of the seasons, about lost youth and ambitions, about becoming stagnant.

And where am I now? Leaves once so verdant have withered and drifted to the dusty earth...But alas, when ever did such a vain thing maintain? Oh, that it would be Springtime forevermore; flowers blooming amongst things bold, green, unflagging...a state of newness and productivity, so fresh and temperate - not yet sweating under the anticipatory Sun, cooking all the rawness out of things only to let them lie cold and rot...But no. The dwindling hours of Heaven's favor have long since dissolved into the grey clouds, and these feeble souvenirs that I clutch to my bosom -leaves once so verdant- have withered and drifted to the dusty earth.