Spring

Curved metal object
Your form locked in your mind
Bouncing by compression
In spirals do you wind.

Summer

You sit at your desk
Addition is your life
Numbers are your family
The total is your wife.

Or Tum

You have many names
Stomach, tum or belly.
Whether firm and hard,
Or wobbling like a jelly.

(or an alternative verse for some)

Fall

Whoops, there I go again
Not looking where I am going
With all the stitches I have had
I should really take up sewing.

W inters

Now W is a dour man
And why is very plain
For he digs the grave when you are dead
And he fills it in again.

Seasons

I sprinkle a bit of pepper
And then a shake of salt
And if it's not to your liking
It's always my damn fault!



Penned by my hand on the 16th of Scarlatan, in the year 384 AF.