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Changing Seasons ©

I dedicate this poem to my son Johnny and his lovely bride Dee Dee

Josette Marie Louise Lager
California, USA

There is a tree not a rose
in Spanish Harlem that grows
only in the spring.

There are the bells of Saint
Mary's that clearly ring year
round but only in autumn do they
sing their sweetest sound.

The winter chill of Austria
captures more applause than
the northern lights and speaking
of which all of these things
all of these delights cannot
compare to the days and nights
of summer time in the Bronx.

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