A year long

I was the winter Wind
That too needed a place to hide
But why they hated I had no hint
As I wandered alone outside

Then came March
I found more hate
Fell from a branch
Swept out to desiccate

Oh the summers too
Parched and cracked
I questioned is it true
All goodness I lacked

For this drowning leaf
finally came the rains
I was foolish to believe
It would end my pains

Driven through streams, Harsh and rude
Into the final resting of solitude
I know, whether might come, many more
Only to show, how life is sore


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