Oh what's to become of us
Now that Memorial Day
Is all but here and gone
Yet neither the earth
Nor I stand ready
To receive summer
The cherry blossoms are
Barely gone leaving me staring at
A few glaring bare patches on the lawn
And the fig tree’s leaves
Still remain unfurled
From end to end there
Is endless and growing work
Waiting to be done
From end to end there
Is endless and growing work
Waiting to be done
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