Spring was the time our love was new,
As fresh as blossoms on the trees,
Then summer came and fueled the flames
To fever pitch, but fire can burn.
And lacking fuel the flames went out;
Now summerís gone, and so are you.
Autumnís arrived, with falling leaves
Reminding me, and my heart yearns
Once more for loveís hopes to renew,
While frost has tinged the rooftops white;
Winter will soon make its debut,
And put an end to hopeís cruel games.
Fingers of ice pierce my heart through
While reaper grim my soul reclaims.
By Linda Newman
© 2003 Linda Newman
(All rights reserved)