The Trees Outside

The trees outside my window
Are in their budding phase,
With newborn leaves and blossoms
In their early spring displays.

I gaze at them forlornly,
Behind a pane of glass
And hope they aren’t autumn-like
Before this all shall pass.

Though fall’s my favorite season,
Those rusts and golds, I think,
Won’t dazzle near as much without
Their prior greens and pink.