
Don't ask me to tell you, I don't know myself.
Rated: Fiction K - English - Poetry - Words: 154 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 1 - Published: 08-25-11 - Status: Complete - id: 2946433
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Seventeen Winters
Sixteen winters I have seen,
Watched the trees change from leafless to green.
Gazed on the graves of flowers demised.
But soon, from their bedding of death, they will rise.
Sixteen springtimes have passed me by
Seen the tiny swallows learning to fly
Watched the colour of green return to the trees
As their branches dance in and flirt with the breeze.
Sixteen summers I have felt
the sun upon my back and smelt
the salt on the air that comes with the waves
Exploring the coastline's myriad of caves
Sixteen autumns have fallen down
Just like those leaves that have changed to brown
The strong winds have stripped the branches bare
So ending their six month love affair
Another winter has come and past
T'was so much(colder than the last
This time, flowers won't rise from ground,
And the wind will cease to sing it's sound.
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