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 Tamara Beryl Latham - The Poet



The Seasons

High atop a snow-capped mountain,
watching snowflakes dance below,
I have traveled many miles
through the Winter's bitter cold.

Like an hourglass upturned,
sending sand ascatter,
I am tired from my journey,
my shoes and garments worn and tattered.

Pressing onward into Springtime,
I have seen the birds take flight,
there is no rest for this weary traveler,
as I walk the Summer nights.

I have journeyed over skyways,
under highways and through byways,
as the leaves begin to fall.

Autumn colors set the landscape
for my final resting call.







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