Metamorphosis

Jerard Guevarra, Guest Writer

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Mother nature’s kiss sweeps the wind and trees,
I miss the burn of the sun on my skin,
The wind ruffles my hair and burns my cheeks,
When winter comes the grass turns weak and thin.

From the melodic chirp of singing birds,
To the violent storms of wintertime,
Yet when winter sings its song left unheard,
One is willing to abandon sunshine.

So I leave my arms open for winter,
Yet I will not forget the summertime,
Change will be imminent in the weather,
Memories of summer are always mine.

And though I miss the beauty of summer,
I welcome the melody of winter.

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