by

"His Change"

 

To be spun upon the wind

He was; as seed before spring. 
 
But so lost as one afraid  
To root; Covered under leaves. 
 
Yet still this planet rolled 
Once more; chased the orb of fire. 
 
And then again to roll
And find; weary fool's reprieve.
 
The fiercest sun, gives light 
That's hid; kept in darkest cloud. 
 
Despair is quelled as winds
Change due; Winter's longer thaw.
 
A flower from wild fields
Gathered; Purple Hyacinth. 
 
Bitter the cold, by touch
May warm; skin that's closer held. 
 
Sincere in all our words 
To tell; none was ever grieved.
 
Each drop of rain shall rise
Someday; Present past becomes.
 
His future won, will be
Not lost; Carried to her arms. 
 

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