Winter’s Chagrin


Spring’s flowers withering,
suffocating under weight of leaves
fallen from trees beaten bare by
the breeze of Fall, where they first
aged to rust, reluctantly gave in to fall,
dove to the earth and retired to dust.
So, fare thee well, summer skin
for winter’s pale is fading in,
settling where the once vibrant blues,
and golden hues of summer’s cloak hung.

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