Inevitable, it is that time of year again
the season of flowers, followed by summers and rain
winters must wait, now yet another year
and chills, these pleasant faces, would not have to

the forests would flaunt, with breeze a greener a
and shoulders of silk, as the sun they soak
children would too, now bring out some toy
with mornings less lazy, to jump out and enjoy

the rivers will bulge, to a louder size
and nests lay crazy with the offspring’s cries
the cattle would too,not scramble through waste
with food and drinks in abundance of taste

dear dying winters, do not be saddened by this
more than all others, it is you I will miss
and all memories to us that belong
your saddened mornings that barely lasted long

like flowers that bloom under your wings
and wondering through night of useless little
like the simple thought of those fingers
the warmth I felt, if only it were winters


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