The End – for dVerse

So, in the end, there’s nothing we can do,
we cannot stop the seasons in their flow,
pull up a seat, my friend, admire the view,
the evening fading with a twilight glow

We cannot stop the seasons in their flow:
the berries ripen sweetly in the hedge,
the evening fading with a purple glow
as summer teeters on the very edge.

The berries ripen sweetly in the hedge,
and dust clouds float their way above the lane
as summer teeters on the very edge
and harvest time is with us once again.

The dust clouds float their way above the lane,
soon to be dampened down by autumn mist,
and harvest time is with us once again,
and summertime and autumn meet and kiss.

Soon to be dampened down by autumn mist
the leaves seek glory in their final flight,
and summertime and autumn meet and kiss
apples that ripen almost overnight.

The leaves seek glory in their final flight,
and will I know it when I pick my last
apples that ripen almost overnight,
and will I know that my last spring has passed?

And will I know it when I pick my last
pale snowdrop hanging down her frosty face,
and will I know that my last spring has passed,
keep fresh a memory of this time and place?

Pale snowdrop hanging down her frosty face –
she cannot feel time passing is unfair,
keep fresh a memory of this time and place
we cannot change the world with our despair

We cannot feel time passing is unfair:
Pull up a seat, my friend, admire the view,
We cannot change the world with our despair,
And in the end, there’s nothing we can do.

 

I’m having a little battle with Pantoums at the moment. There’s something I like about them, but they are tricky to get right. This is for Paul at dVerse, who prompts us to write about The End. I chose a Pantoum with a sense of irony, as they don’t really end, they kind of cycle back to the beginning – a Möbius strip of words, rolling on forever. That fitted the idea of the seasons rolling on. Anyway, here it is, for what it’s worth. 

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