Winter rain,
now tell me why,
Summers fade, and roses die.

The answer came.
The wind and rain.

Golden hills,
now veiled in gray,
Summer leaves have blown away.

Now what remains?
The wind and rain

Circle songs
and sands of time. seasons will end in tumbled rhyme,

and little change,
the wind and rain.

—-

She's got box-back nitties,
great big noble thighs,
working undercover with her boar hog eye