Wednesday, November 08, 2006
The witch of winter flies over the land,
While simmer makes a lonesome stand.
She and her magic horn.
Blow in the cold storms.
Summer yields its feast
To the cold winter beast
When summer will return,
the beast will burn
The cities stand It all ,
Waiting for another Fall.
What makes it all Ryme,
Is the passage of time.
While simmer makes a lonesome stand.
She and her magic horn.
Blow in the cold storms.
Summer yields its feast
To the cold winter beast
When summer will return,
the beast will burn
The cities stand It all ,
Waiting for another Fall.
What makes it all Ryme,
Is the passage of time.
