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Soft brown eyes that looked at me;
And quiet was her room.
She nestled in the soft white sheets.
Like a baby in a womb.
Then Jenny smiled.

She lived in pain, and oft a tear 
Crept softly to her room.
But she loved the morning sunshine;
And adored the rose's bloom;
For it was spring.

She couldn't speak, 
Or even raise her head;
But the Warrior's heart within her;
Felt not one bit of dread.
It was summer.

The leaves like golden raindrops fell,
with an early frost;
Jenny loved the chilly weather;
As she bore her painful cross.
It was Autumn.

The snow fell gently,
And prepared her little bed.
For then they found her;
Lying cold and dead.
It was winter.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

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