How many more winters will I get to see?
I’m looking outside the window. I can see the garden showered with spring’s sunlight. What a beautiful day. Winter is now gone. Till next year. The passage from winter to spring was so quiet and discreet, I almost missed it.
And now, that leaves me wondering how many more winters I have left. How many winter-to-spring passages I will have the privilege of witnessing until I exist no more. How many years are left before I become an idea of who I was, a memory.
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