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Round a Revolving Door

I'm a writer, a poet, a dreamer. Born and raised in New York City. I now live in Daytona Beach, Florida. .

round-a-revolving-door

Came tumbling down the hill,

just as spring bounced in,

smelled the freshly mown grass,

saw flowers springing from the ground,

then I turned round

and summer was before me.

The bees were buzzing,

flowery scent in the air,

hardly dared to breathe -

so all the beauty wouldn’t disappear.

Birds trilling in the air,

jasmine scented nights,

of shimmering stars -

the moon beaming from afar.

Over the top of the hill,

tumbling down the other side,

what a wild ride,

down at the foot,

there I now sit,

wondering where summer is going

and why fall is not far behind.

Just saw a pair of storks,

packing for the south,

leaving their nest -

afraid of catching early frosts come September.

Soon I'll be gazing at trees with flaming treetops,

as leaves change to gold, orange and red.

Then I always want to spread my arms,

catch the colder winds

and dance along with the swirling leaves.

Still in my heart there is sorrow,

with each new morrow -

at the end of each summer.

Wasn’t I just heading into spring,

now going out summer’s back door.

What is it all for?

like spinning round -

a revolving door.

© 2018 Gypsy Rose Lee

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