Four Seasons

The seasons, as a woman.

Every leaf on the tree unfurls

Straightening from its dusty curls

She awakens, returning to her palace

Free from the cold's gripping malice

With the wisdom of an elder

But the grace of a swan.

A fire grows within the embers, 

As the tune swells anon

The days grow long and sweet

Dancing, spiraling through the heat

She plays her fiddle on the shore,

Quicker, faster, more and more

Her honeyed hair whips through the air

And enemies dance freely.

But then a chilling wind gives its share,

And the waters become steely

The sun gives way to harvest time

As shears and scythes click and chime

She treads among her fallen treasures

Her melancholy growing in measures

Jewels lace her amber locks

And twirl to the ground at her feet.

Her heartbeat slows to reluctant knocks

As the earth is covered with its sheet

She casts her final spell

Crystal diamonds, not to sell

A crown on head and staff in hand

She steals her love from the land

On the final night

Just out of sight

She climbs into her tomb as planned. 

The End

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