Your seasons, four seasons
Suggest but deceive
For the seasons of humans
May linger or be brief
The experience not as simple
As yearly known weather
Not a calendar sheet
Not a scheduling tether
Your youth and your vigor
Are not one and the same
Your ardor and humor
Come from unequal extremes
Balance is only a pause in the strain
The scale is a lilting, a sway or a jilt
No one can say how long
You'll bend, grow or wilt
Memory will not store
The duration it felt
As a natural song or wave
It will melt.
Eve is One
Eve Featherstone
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