Still Spring

Morning burns the remaining dews
that seep through air like wind.
The gentle bird uphold the skies
pale, crimson and shades of white.

The spring is near and hath marched alive
so clear that it spreads so wide
to few I know of nigh,
but heck, beyond the dream I've seen a life.

The spring it bears my love for thine
as though my heart hath bore a sign.
As closed by serenaded symphony
blended feelings alike.

Noon came too soon to tear my soul
I am thus weary and cold
it seemed eternity hath our promises kept
but our love it lost.

And so the caressing breath singes
unknowingly the heart painfully blameth
that why it hath come to love and care
the Lady that is not even there.

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