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The sage, old woman Shuffles her way down the path As rays of brilliance Beat back the lingering shadows Overhead limbs of the elders Stretch, reaching ever skyward Blossoms fill the aging orchard Their fragrance, sweet and new A touch of youth, reminder of time Too soon her journey must end She stops to smell the apple blossom Gnarled fingers on delicate flowers A moment stolen in her familiar haven Her seasons have come to an end Winter has set into her body But it’s still springtime in her heart.
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