If our love should be perfect;

If twisting and turning through tumultuous river beds and creaks should have lead

Here - this moment -

And all should suddenly be right,

Then why does the wind whistle gaunt

And why are the lupin’s dried,

Why do birds not sing

The bees not buzz


why do our bodies grow cold without coats

And why does the sun shadow ‘neath clouds?

For winter has come,

Stark. White.

Burning through the trickling brooks until

Ice coats smooth stone

Our eyes, darting from skeleton to dust

To the dying breath of the autumns orange mist,

See only abandoned shells of love.

But sunshine smiles

Her figured rays dancing over pale skin

She twinkles in your eyes

And mine.

And whispers through the beating heart

That summer will be here again.

That we may chase the frost, soaked in fiery red

Like the sunset chases cloud

As horizon tucks her into bed.

If our love should be perfect;

It would be pure and mild

And I don’t see the worth of love

That doesn’t dance with fire

And ice.


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