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This time of year trees are barren of leaves
And the wind is but a messenger of the cold
It seems we are besieged by winters thieves
By its harshness, we are brought down low

We find in these times the green grass has died
And a summer rose is a memory inside our minds
For hard is the ground and so empty the sky
As even the birds have gone until another time

The night is only made bright by numerous stars
And soft stirring essences of moonbeams which dance
So that one might see through the darkness afar
The midnight sky which they have gently enhanced

And yet there is a lasting beauty one can now see
Which the cruel severity of winter has yet to carry
An authentic love that destiny has forever deemed
Winters cold and the sands of time can never bury

For even though many bodies and souls will pass away
The sweet memory of a priceless love shall always stay.

Wendell A. Brown, 2015