This was a year when Spring forgot.
She stayed in the southlands far too long.
Ice lay slick on the garden path
And winter winds sang the robin's song.
The wood-burning fireplace lost its charm,
The beautiful snow turned slushy gray.
The mittens and jackets, the boots and scarves
Got damper and danker each passing day.
Then full of apologies, Spring rushed home
To set things right. In a matter of hours
She changed all the icicles to leaves,
And all of the snowballs she turned to flowers.
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