When winter gets ready to pack up and leave I feel sad. It is a bit like a faithful friend departing. I know, he will be back. Even when I am not here anymore he will definitely be back. Looking for old buddies. Draped in the white he loves. With his heart all cold as ever. Making you wish he won't be so constant. And then leaving you feeling nostalgic. I am sure the grim reaper is white. That is not the color he is usually portrayed in, but what else can it be, but white. Maybe he even has a dove for a pet.
The tree was fine when I saw it last time. I don't quite recollect how long ago that was. I do recollect the tree was fine. Now I see it again. All shrivelled up, The glorious leaves gone, So too the pride. It looks old, Maybe feels old, wasted, useless What happened to you, old friend? What bolt of destiny struck you down. I doubt you will ever hold that head up again Against the sky, against the wind, against time. But don't you worry. We are with you. Shrunk, shrivelled, shaken down No matter. We are with you.
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