Colours of the seasons

Looking at the two sides of the road,
Left and right in two neat rows,
Trees so tall and growing so straight,
Swaying gently as a breeze blows.
Flowers bloom as weather warms,
Buds opening slowly but surely,
Life peeking out from under hoods,
Steadily becoming a reality.

Sunrises and sunsets pass by,
Sand seeps down the hourglass,
The flowers now past their prime,
Gently descend from their past.
Covering the once empty street,
With petals of colour aplenty.
Until rains fall and winds blow by,
Leaving the street again empty,
The colourful specks that dot the street,
Washed and blown away already.

Yet the green that were the leaves,
Disappoint us they do not be,
Yellow, red, brown, orange,
Changing colours they do freely,
Yet like the flowers these leaves too,
Never everlasting they can be,
Colours to last ever so briefly,
Green no more they drop randomly.

Trunks and branches these trees be,
A single colour they are now,
Not a bud nor a leaf there is,
Awaiting spring with a bald crown.

I used to live on a street lines with cherry blossom trees, and this describes the colourful changes that seasons bring.