Like rain, tender words mist your cheeks.
You turn your collar against the storm.
Too often you have weathered my love
and felt its changing seasons.
Spring has blessed us many times;
hot summers affirmed our passions,
yet my heart remains an almanac;
the onset of winter certain in its charts.
Do not dread my darkest autumns,
when curt words fall like deadened leaves!
Even then, my love belies their color,
affirming the promise of rebirth.
When next my sentiments drop like rain,
drink of them, with certain knowledge
that like the shifting moon and stars
there is comfort in their patterns.
Seasons of My Heart
