Elizabeth B. Arney Poems

If summer was a lady
How old would she be?
She might be twenty-six
Or she could be forty-three.
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Winter has passed and spring is here again.
Instead of snow and ice, there is soft falling rain.
Warm breezes blowing make the air smell sweet.
Then the sun shines down its mild gentle heat.
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What did you think my dear mister sun
The day of the eclipse - did you have fun
How did you feel and what did you say
When you seemed so close to the moon that day?
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