They were married,
in the summertime,
so special was their love,
when flowers bloomed all around
and colorful butterflies filled the air.
Came the autumn
and they delighted,
with the changing of the seasons.
Loving all the different colors,
that nature surrounded them with.
Came the winter
and they held each other tight.
Keeping warm with passionate kisses,
while the snow blustered outside.
With the glow of love still around them,
they greeted their first child.
Seasons came and seasons went,
their love continued to grow.
Now as the years had flown,
they waited for their first grandchild.
He loved her as much as he’d loved her,
right from the very start =
the summer when they wed.
To him it seemed that the years,
had taken nothing from them.
There were still so many seasons,
to look forward to.
Then he discovered her packing,
to his surprise she said –
that their love had grown cold.
She wanted to go on alone,
he couldn’t understand,
it was like she was speaking –
a language most foreign to him.
His love hadn’t flown,
if only he’d known,
perhaps he would have done things differently,
but he was left clueless.
A child grown,
a grandchild on the way.
He was content,
but his love wanted to fly.
He took her hand,
led her into the garden.
He showed her that the summer,
was just same as when they were wed.
The roses were in bloom
and the birds chirped in the trees.
He reminded her,
of how he had told her –
that they were serenading their love.
When night fell,
he held her in his arms.
Like so many years ago,
they danced by moonlight.
Their kisses seemed the same,
but somewhere passion had cooled.
His heart trembled in fear,
he told he loved her
and called her dear.
Long into the night,
he reminded her,
of the seasons they’d shared,
of wonderful things –
that life had given them.
Most of all he spoke of the love,
that still glowed in his heart.
When morning came
and he awoke to the sunrise,
he was alone,
she had gone
and he knew that he would remember her,
from season to season –
till his life was done.