in constant motion

When I think of seasons passing by,

My mind goes to puffy white clouds, drifting across the blue sky,

Giving us momentary relief as they still for a while,

Only to disappear, not to be seen again for miles.

These clouds never seem to stay put in one place,

They're constantly shifting, changing their pace,

But when I look at the colors of the horizon, fading into one another, time and time again,

I feel a glaring truth in my brain:I feel a glaring truth in my brain:

The seasons will change and so will we,

Everything is temporary.