Anastasia Koutsivitis '25
The trees bare their skeleton in short lasting fright,
Leaves hit the ground in a shriveled brown,
I wonder how the sun will warm my face in the night-
With the axis of love turned away in a frown.
As the warmth filters in, my flowers start growing.
Maybe I will not die or wither away yet?
I hope that I can hold onto the seeds that are sowing,
The grass is greener here and I will not fret.
Sharp rays burn my skin as the months pass by
The beauty of love has lost his softness
I feel that I will shrivel even though I try
Who knew that summer abandons all its sweetness?
The crisp gold, brown, and yellow leaves show how I fare
Am I lost without him, or are my colors beautifully rare
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