A Thought
Our days
are numbered short,
Gloomy it may seem but
We value them because they are
as such.
We care
for spring because
The fall knocks every year,
Reminder that it will be gone
soon enough.
A life
buds into bloom
On the branches of old
Where the flowers had ceased life
before.
Year past
The year before,
They count because they end
And so, we value the lifetime
we had.
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