Walking in the sunlit meadows,
Peering at the newborn fawn,
Gazing into crystal mirrors,
Waiting for the dawn.
My heart feels heavy as I gaze,
At spring in all it’s glory,
For soon harsh winter shall come again,
And end shall this springs story.
Wither, wither shall the plants,
Wither and die, not to be born again,
Cold shall come unto the land,
Wither, wither, die again.
Now winter is here,
Will spring return,
I feel the fear,
Of the Earth.
Will winter release it’s grasp,
And finally leave at last,
Will I see the buds of spring,
Will winter ever leave,
Will I ever chance to see,
The world grow again.
(Copyright (©) 2007. All rights reserved)
© Copyright 2017 Amity Willows. All rights reserved.
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