winter is born on a cold dawn
the wind blows strong
and the leaves on the trees struggle to hold on
but spring will march and charge the field
her heart is steeled
the dark will yield
oh summer love, you playful tease
my sweet may breeze
say you’ll stay, please
when autumn fell I held my breath
in red, and gold, and yellow death
—
photo: ijammin / flickr
That’s just how I flow, homie
I look forward to yours