Years have a shape; they throb and ache:
the daily step, the monthly debt.
Mornings rise and afternoons serve -
hidden tears and blazing joys. 

Wasted moments and Summers end,
Autumns harvest and Winters task - 
the long lost times dissolve, dissipate
and Springs secrete unburdened hope. 

Years have a shape and accumulate,
seasons repeat and propagate
the tears and joys that shape our lives,
the days and memories we consecrate.