Yet at night you let your icy cousin in,
He ravages the buds and threatens the seed.
How duplicitous are you! Such a misdeed!
You take your time to decide our fate,
Will summer I give or hinder?
Will rains I withhold or plunder?
Will my cousin winter I keep,
No! Perhaps in summer, oh!
The decisions I hate.
How fickle are you petulant puss,
Immature girl!
Grow up! I say and be true to your truss!
Stay mild in between and find your own.
What is wrong with mild?
Decide mild for this town.
Oh give me autumn, a more mature child,
She decides to defrock right down to the bone.
Bold colours she gives, liquid gold!
A sweet season that lingers, one summer cannot hold.
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