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Ascertain Season

Summer came,
with the sun
overpowering.
Then came rain
and swept
the burnt land.
Came winter
with all the blues
and rolled in blanket
I stare at the blank ceiling.
Thinking about it,
time of the year.
It is here, again.
As I do each year,
I wonder,
will my yearnings
for that surreal spring
ever hit rockbed.
When the spring for me
will ever come?
Seasons they come,
they hurt and pat,
they go.
But I have only ever
heard of the joys.
The spring.
Spring of my life,
when will you, oh dear, come?
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