Grenadine

Changing colors, warm sunshine

Cinnamon scent, apple pie

Walk to school, rolling down hill

crisp and dry, time set still

A cold morning, scorching noon

Pleasant evening, howling moon

Less is more, and more is none

work, play and a little fun

Yesterday’s shrub, is bare today

It was green, is what they say

Bittersweet, is the season of change

some held tight some out of range

Good to bad, or worse to better

What it’s called will hardly matter

For summer’s gone and I have seen

the dawn of winter in this Grenadine. 

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