A Season of Love


What would love be, without a melody.
The ticking of ones heart like a metronome.
As love grows the song sings as birds calling to one another from a distance.
Longing to intertwine it self as roots of a tree, that's where my love shall be.
As the crisp autumn weather creeps love begins to fade, withers with age like a leaf from a tree.
Longing to live and breathe and be as it once was, but love can take a turn bringing a bitter prick once spring begins;
It can feel as a bee sting with an itch of pain and the sting of acknowledging of the things to be.
Love may open as a flower in June and dry and wilt as the summer sun shines down open thee.
Giving no quench for thirst and mourning the love that's been lost.
Love can be one or many, love can be ending or outliving.
Love is much more than a word, it is life.

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