My loves have counted Twenty
by this winter time.
Spring's oats have clearly left me
merely with a sigh.
My loves have counted Twenty
Just go someplace and cry.

Each season brings the torment
with the tilling of the soul.
Twenty Springs bare witness -
sorrow's frost upon the knoll.
Praying to reap one harvest
of a new found source of pride.
Walking along the furrows.
Is there no place for I ?
Twenty times we sow our seed.
Just go someplace and cry.

With those Springs came the Fall -
torrid colors always seen.
Just Fall into cold
cold silence -
The ever selfish theme.
Sometimes Spring and Fall
share the ever present I.
Yet another season stands alone.
Just go someplace and cry.

Left me did the standard
by which all blooms compare.
When Spring had graced the spectrum,
then suddenly unaware.
If ever a Spring had blossomed -
the seasons' greatest lie.
Oh, these leaves a turning !
Just go somplace and cry.

An Angel's breath brought the day
ole' Willie told it all.
Springtime needn't look my way -
came the unforgiving Fall.
The sparrow's wings carry off
the promise of passion's lore.
Each turning leaf a tribute to
all those sown before.

And now we mark the cradle.
Few Winters to pass us by.
The cold, it cometh as Twenty before.
There's no where left to cry.
The bounty of love's harvest
left with wisdom
and nothing more.
Sunsets now betray us -
we may not plead for more.
As Twenty Blossoms of the seasons
have ended being none.
Wipe my eyes -
renew the season,
and pray for twenty-one.