Everything Sealed By Winter's Hand Poem by Perdita Young (Hanna Wang)

If we have to each define
The four seasons left behind,
Then spring is like a map on the sand,
A mystic surely, with her perhaps hand.

Then ramble we on, to days glamorous,
The summer hesitates on, with choices glorious.
Feeling hot, we fled into autumn, eager for relief,
Where more colors found, but not without grief.

At last here we are, at destination's cold,
Only to find things unexpectedly sealed:
Vigor has been sealed in whining gust,
Beauty also sealed, drowsy in the dirty dust.

For Hope we seek, clumsy in winter's coats,
Loudly encouraged by so many famous quotes.
But she seems no exception, also sealed, sealed tight,
The key destroyed by a certain sans-merci, named Fate.

-Poem by Petite (Ning Hsin-erh)