Cherry, peach, apple, pear, and plum,
all blossoms do they come,
only to snow upon the ground,
falling without a sound.

The beauty of spring comes on slow
sometimes too quick to go.
Blossom’s beauty lost in the wind
to my soul’s sad chagrin.

April May green come and remain,
bide for flowers to stain      
gardens and parks beauty refreshed
bring color ’til fall’s rest.

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