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Everything has its own time, Going through life making the climb; Just as there must be a reason, For each and every season. Spring is bringing upon the bloom, Chasing away the winter gloom; The sun opens up the flowers, Extending the daylight hours. The summer brings warmth from the sun, That remains when the day is done; And as all of you also know, As it causes the plants to grow. Come autumn as we see the trees, The changing colors of the leaves; Growing colder as north winds blow, And towards the end will come the snow. Then as we see the winter blast, With cold nights that seem to outlast; And long for someone to snuggle, To keep you warm through the struggle. For there is a time to be born, And live this life as to sojourn; As well as a time for to die, A time to laugh and time to cry. A time for you to plant the field, And a time to harvest the yield; For what we sow, we must then reap, So we can eat as the gardens sleep. There is even a time to kill, That if any war would instill; After the war a time to heal, As the hostilities repeal. And when the hostilities cease, It will bring on a time of peace; The aftermath may give us strife, Looking to God for the next life. Copyright © 2015 Richard Newton Sherrer Vote for this poem
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