Summer, Spring, Winter, Fall

All seasons serve to speed the pace
Of life's quick race,
Which ends not at the finish line
But in a box of oak or pine.

So let us take this game of chance
Where fate depends on happenstance
And forge ahead in passioned play,
Growing stronger with each day.

For surely, if we sit and wait,
Our fears will simply escalate
Until we are as hard as stone—
Transfixed, unmoved, and quite alone.

©2016 Michael Fraley

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