Seasons come,
Seasons leave,
Rides the cresting winds
of change,
Carries proud her sweet
bouquet,
Feasts on a chameleon
moon.
She speaks with fervor,
Flaunting favor,
Dives and drives the heart to fever
Til the rushed and
flushed
Believe her maddening
crush of platitudes.
Banking off her promised boon,
The soft caress of her
sweet tune,
The mesmerizing mantra
swoons
A ripening of attitudes.
But time keeps marching,
Never still.
Seasons shift and
rearrange,
And Mother Earth, her
architect,
Breathes life into the
winds of change.
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