Four Seasons

Butterflies come to make love to the roses,
The warm spring has come at last to thy days.
Life and joy abound, youth and vigor grows,
Thy splendid beauty shines in many ways.

And summer comes and the days grow longer,
Life yields to life and cycles are reborn.
Out of the old comes the new far better,
Stronger, leaving behind the days forlorn.

As thy leaves turn red and slowly wither,
Come thy late blossoms lovely that I cull
And as the air turns crisp autumn sweeter
I behold thy loveliness in its full.

North Wind blows softly as winter draws nigh,
When flowers cease to bloom, and birds, to sing.
Thy beauty has left, for all fair shall die
Someday, to fated sorrow shall thee bring.

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    For people who love to think.

    Jian Carlo R. Narag, MD

    2005-2017

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