We often experience
A multitude of seasons
And nobody really knows
All of those reasons

But we carry on
Like we always do
Even when the answers
Are nearly none to few

And we never stop to question
What those seasons mean
Yet there must be hidden answers
In everything we’ve seen

Scattered between the pages
Of our monotonous lives
There have got to be reasons
For why we’ve somehow survived

And even if those answers
Are never actually found
We should all be happy
We’ve been allowed to stick around

So many people in this world
Never have that gifted chance
I guess it all depends
On our individual circumstance

© 2019 Michelle Cook

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For a month of writing prompts, click here; Along the weathered, winding trail