In the Spring, I was a child
Sometimes timid, sometimes wild
Summer was fast and brisk
Scornful of danger or risk
In the Autumn, at my best
Seasoned, mellow, ready for Rest
***
Passing thought…

In the Autumn, what would I do?
I don’t know, I have no clue!
Summer sunshine turns winter grey,
There is no Fall where I stay!
🙂

***

For Jenny Matlock’s Saturday Centus

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