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What words would Winter whisper,
When the last warm rays
Of sweet Summer sister
Have shone beyond forgone horizons?
His hands clasp blistered,
Embraced by the rhythm of fate.
Love conquers all but his envy is great,

And it grows,

And it blows,

And the Winds are rising,

Giving voice to once silent trees.
Through the maelstrom
Winter watches.
A feeble man on bended knees
Cradles the embers of fire.
Winter froze with desire
While stunned by despair,
That even man could find warmth
While his sky lay frozen and bare.
This tree is no evergreen,
Though its roots run as deep
Through emerald soil unseen.
Branches bare witness.
The seasons ebb and flow,
Creaking and curling
While the north wind blows.

Leaves cling for dear life.
Fragile, fading
And yet dancing with light.
They grow and blossom
Only to falter one day.
Crinkled and trodden,
Swept up and blown away.

— The End —