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And the Seasons Go By

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Snow falling and the harsh blizzards of winter
Recede, melting away slowly for spring.
The climate warms for the sunbeams of summer,
Blossoms burst, now golden upon the trees.
Soon, drifting lazily around the young reader,
Who so anxiously awaited this quiet fall.

The time when she could cherish the fine fall
Away from strict school and deep blue winter.
Here she sits with the boy. And reading
The words on the pages before her spring
Jumping, in their voices like the leaves from the trees,
The children act out the coming summer.

Different these days, never the same summer.
That carefree lifestyle of laughter and falling
Into the piles of leaves. The ones the trees
Left behind, all gone. The foreboding winter
Ever evil. In the morning springing,
Driving, off to work. No more time to read.

Now, the world is limited to reading
The mind of their infant baby of summer
Born in the month dear to the couple. Fallen
Hope for the woman in despair. Ambition cannot spring,
Not past the slow, morning commute. So wintry
Until the leaves die again on the trees.

When will the shoot of hope revive the aging coupled tree?
When will she, a blossomed woman, read
More than to new grandchildren in winter?
Gone with rocking weakly before summer
Scenes. Only telling stories of the fall
When love between young boy and girl was sprung.

Her timely tale begins with that mild spring,
The knowledge clearly in her soul. Trees
Calmly whispered in her ear their fallen
Glories and ancient histories. She read
Aloud her tales to the boy. During summer
They grew closer. Swinging, as one, when winter

Flushed out by vibrant green trees. And winter
Ever chilling, fallen, caught the spring
Of love summers later. The timeless tale is read.





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