Though Summer days may be finite and few,
And Summer's heat without reprieve or end,
'Tis true that I would only spend with you
All times in Summer that to comp'ny lend;
'Tis the same for Fall and beautiful Spring,
And Winter with its chilly, rainy wind;
And all throughout the year when bells do ring
To show that some have died and some have sinned.
I wish to be with you forever more,
Until the seasons cease to rock the world
And become nothing more than olden lore
With our love untouched, relaxed, and unfurled;
A finer thing than this I cannot see,
Than me always with you and you with me.
Author notes
...a rhyming poem I do not recall ever writing. Sort of juvenile, but probably the best I could do to imitate such a style.
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