My Lasting Minutes

Through all my years, four seasons have grown,
Each one a self I have somehow known.
Not one was wasted, not one set free—
Together they fashioned the whole of me.

Spring was the child with wonder-filled eyes,
Chasing tomorrow beneath open skies.
Quick to believe, and eager to start,
Carrying hope in an unbroken heart.

Summer was strength in the heat of the day,
Building and striving, finding my way.
Loving with passion, laughing out loud,
Standing unbending, determined and proud.

Autumn brought questions the young never knew,
Harvesting joys, but gathering rue.
Letting things fall that once seemed forever,
Learning that loss and love part never.

Winter is quieter, slower in pace,
Etched by the years upon my face.
Yet beneath the frost, where few may see,
The roots still whisper the truth of me.

For spring still dreams beneath winter’s snow,
Summer’s warm embers continue to glow.
Autumn’s wisdom still colours my view—
Each season remains, though the years renew.

I am not one season, but all that I’ve been;
The boy and the man live quietly within.
Each changing chapter, each joy and each scar,
Made me the person I truly are.

So when my journey at last is done,
Remember me not by only one.
For every season played its part,
And all of them still beat within my heart.