poems by Donald James Dolby
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The blossoms of life are falling now
Faster than ever they have,
Though the leaves are still green
They fail forlornly to conceal
Time racing by to the end of the day
When they too will fall
Leaving nought behind but stark branched wood
For the winter of man comes quickly to some
Who have had hope strangled from their future.

Notes :-
Pachacaid, France, 1987