People say that life is short 12 months 52 weeks 365 days That’s a year But a year of what? You can live but not be living You can fly but still touch the ground You can scream but not make any sound So this year, is it really a year? If I’m sitting on the ground Crying like the rain as I walk away from you But then again Who are you? I don’t know So why am I crying? I don’t know you I don’t love you At least . . . Not anymore Just because your flowers bloomed while I was still shivering in the cold Doesn’t mean I can’t make flowers of my own You’ve found your spring You’ve made your change And it’s a beautiful, amazing change But my seasons My winter, spring, summer and fall They don’t work like yours You’ve braved the winter And found the sun Now it’s my turn I’ve stayed in the winter Long enough I’ve watched you change through the orange leaves, white blizzards, pink blossoms and warm sunshine So now I’m guessing it’s my turn I’m not going to change Not that fast But as long as I’m here Sitting in the blinding snow As long as I have this life This life of mine I’m going to make the best of it Sure it won’t work out But let’s be honest The seasons don’t always follow the rules It’s snowed in fall, it’s been warm in winter, flowers have grown and lasted well into summer, and sometimes it seems as though fall never gets its turn So I’m going to live with my changing life And know that some of my summers will be cold but they’ll also be warm My falls will be chilly, but filled with rainbows of hope My winters cold and icy, but still warmed with love My springs might never come, but in my three other changes I’ll make flowers of my own