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Katelyn Bourne Apr 2011
This is the worst time of year.
The sun peaks it's rays through
Cotton candy clouds.
Tulips and sun-drenched daffodils
That raise their weary heads
Do nothing but stir up old memories.

This is the best time of year.
Rain falls in heavy droves
That soaks the skin and seeps into the bone.
We creak and click,
Dead bodies returned to life
Revived by steaming cups of coffee
Finding comfort in loneliness.

This is the saddest time of year.
Lovers lay in gently swinging hammocks
Slowly sipping life from one another.
Children imagine leaping into crystalline pools
By turning on the television
Seeking solace in air conditioned tombs.

This is the happiest time of year
Students cling to each other
Caps and gowns waving in the wind.
Office drones seek air conditioned prisons
And with every taste of freedom
They lay their wintry bones on
Scented grass
And hope to sink into the sun-warmed earth.

— The End —