Sun in the cold air of autumn

When the season of games seemed over,

A ready of light has come back

To warn up my leg.

Memories of green swims

And black sausages

Crawl back and warm my heart up.

No season is ever over,

The light is always coming back,

The warmth is always staying.

Seasons to pass

Fascinated by the sharp seasons
Alternating outside the lab window
I wonder how many seasons are needed
To ripen a scientific mind.
When questions turn into action
And words follow the ideas
It is ready.

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