Spring Death

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Spring Death




She looked out at the new snow
with little thought of the biting cold,
but sadness filled her as the spring

flowers were late. She knew that spring
would come and melt the tired snow
with or without her. Whether warm or cold
 
her daffodils would appear and the cold
would insure long life for the buds of spring.
They’d have life for an extra day. The snow

melted. The snow melted into darkness that cold spring.

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The true philosopher and the true poet are one, and a beauty, which is truth, and a truth, which is beauty, is the aim of both.

Ralph Waldo Emerson, American Poet (1803-1882)

streamside’s Poems (3)

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Talking To Summer 0
Dark Spring 0
Spring Death 0