I know the leaves from gold to grey
Those windswept and those that on the branches lay
And, in a sweet moment, to myself I say
We are just a season between June and May
I can kiss a flower and shed a tear
to see it shrivel and no longer dear
I am a cheat, that’s what I fear
to love a precious only before age is near
There is, in every season, a belittling wisdom
For spring is short, and then comes autumn
If I have failed to love wool and not cotton
There are only holes in my tunic, I am rock-bottom
O Mum and Dad, the whispers are in the breeze
That you gave love, and asked not for its lease
In this secret unease, my substance I weave
In an ungracious heart, gratitude takes leave
that is so beautiful Monte . I echo the same thought and whilst Mum and Dad did what they did with no expectations , I know o can very short in my gratitude when it was needed
love you bro for your thoughts and words and expressions
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