Death at the Four Seasons
By Walter Burns
I danced and I fiddled in the middle of spring Disencumbered the number of what summer can bring Gathered the leaves where thieves would have got them and cherished the perish of green in the autumn I splintered in winter a pile at the bottom and to all of my seasons too soon I forgot them Written March 5th, 2002 © on Mar 05 2002 02:57 PM PST 18 • 0 • 10
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"I danced and I fiddled ..."