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Winter is but a memory
cold days and even colder nights
with hardwoods all standing leaf free.
Minimalist, near sere, all in sight.

But now when I step outside
warm air washes over me.
Butterflies dip, swoop and glide
and blossoms adorn each fruit tree.

Wild birds each sing out their love song;
here and there dappled fawns are seen
while the days slowly become long.
The whole world has turned emerald green.

Pollen flavors every breath
but brings sneezes in exchange,
Some almost cough themselves to death.
It scarce affects me ain't that strange?

Shorts reveal pale winter skin
and many shirts are minus sleeves.
Gaining a tan will now begin
as the trees don this year's leaves,

I well recall my long past spring
when so many years confronted me.
( when I thought that I knew everything )
Before I'd learned to simply Be.

So many springs and so much past.
So many seasons left behind.
Some coming spring will be my last.
But I'll ban That thought from my mind.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 


I'm hugely aware of not writing detailed and frightfully intellectual critiques at the moment.
But sometimes you just read a poem and think, yes that was good. I can't think of a way to improve it, I just enjoyed it.
Well I enjoyed this one.
I very much like how you moved the seasonal Spring to the human spring. Going from Spring's characteristics, to how we interact with Spring, to the Springtime of our youth.
Very deft.

Remember we are a workshop site.
Don't forget to offer critique on poems you read.

What kind words for my little scribble but you misspelled daft lol............stan

author comment

Silly buggar

Lol. Jx

Remember we are a workshop site.
Don't forget to offer critique on poems you read.

One of the short comings of being contest director is that I can't win. Wouldn't look right. But no matter as I like to enter even if I can't win. I appreciate your visit and kind words...........stan

author comment

really enjoyed both the text and the subtext.
The details make it a great show poem. It's a winner anyway.


Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

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"Winning" means little to me but I'm pleased you think highly of this one. Also glad you caught the subtext..........stan

author comment
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