Seasons are fleeting

Though they return

Their beauty shifts

Transforms before us

And we accept

That nothing remains

Change will take

Even that breath

We catch today

Tomorrow all

May be ash

And all shall turn to dust

In the eventual


Of years

Our seasons pass

Fleet of foot

While we do not grasp

Each moment

Letting the years

Fade from our gaze

Forgotten seasons

And beauty left behind – Caroline A. Slee

Beauty Passed

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