Comments about Marion Caragounis
In Autumn now the trees are dressed
In reds and golds, their very best.
A dazzling end, a fine display,
Defiant not to fade away.
And as the gold drops from the tree
It leaves the bud of things to be.
When hard times come and trees are bare,
The Springtime promise hidden there
Endures the wind, the frost, the snow,
Awaits the sun to make it grow;
To hold it warm within its gaze -
Create afresh green summer days.