Seasonal Poetry
The February rain pours down,
Like drops of cold despair.
It wrests the warmth and color,
Out from the very air.
It drains the life away from me,
And from most everything.
But this is the price we pay, my friends,
For the comfort and joys of Spring.
-RS
Like drops of cold despair.
It wrests the warmth and color,
Out from the very air.
It drains the life away from me,
And from most everything.
But this is the price we pay, my friends,
For the comfort and joys of Spring.
-RS
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