The forsythia is yellow,
the jonquils are tall,
but I'm not as mellow
as I am in the fall.

The robins are fat,
the squirrels come to call,
but the world will be flat
'til the calander says fall.

Ahead are hot months,
and and the sudden summer squall,
and I wish that just once
we'd go from spring right to fall.

03/27/2002

Posted on 03/27/2002
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