I want the summer to be cold,
The winter to be warm.
The autumn is forever gold,
I Fancy the spring in my arm.

Spring grew on me,
Autumn made it fall.
They never change their tree,
Whilst I, sigh behind the bark wall.

An honest game they play,
Unlike the summer and winter.
Winter is cold they say
Also, it warm is in summer.

Yet, winter's morning is warmer. 
Summer's sunset feels gray.
'Autumn, spring' I clamour,
'Change your game I pray'.

'Autumn, you need not make a try,'
As I embrace the spring in my arms.
I promise I'll let myself dry.
And Let logger take me his farm.

In splits, I'll be warmer this winter.
Frozen stiff the next summer.
I'll fly by the chimney smoke,
Forever I'll retain, once I was an Oak.

.    .    .