Seasons

• Bailey Soo, Grade 9
• Poetry
• 2017

Maybe,
When the wind is crisp,
And the rain patters,
I will see, the truth behind the lie,
They say you can't spell believe with out lie,
So why should you bother, to create such a myth,
Because now, on dusty, dry days, on such yellow days,
I will learn and I will hate, the truth.
And, maybe next summer,
Maybe next winter,
Between seasons you will learn to not deceive me with lies,
Between the smouldering nights and thunder storms,
But you think that lies are worth believing in,
So maybe, when the sun shines,
Maybe, when the rain pours,
You will learn that you can not,
Spell believe with out a lie.