Like Dahlias drifting in the sky, our love is delicate in Spring.
Within frost, our love is warm — it blossoms from fingertips to toes.
Beyond this moment of Winter, Spring sings,
“If the heavens are pale, our love is tender — Mother Nature awakening in the sun.”
In the water of evening the trees wander,
the cold tide floats always to the flower.
If thunder billows, our love is tranquil.
It wildly falls between stars and cosmos’.
When flowers bloom, our love is bold, like salmon petals on Sakura trees.
When autumn leaves fall, our love is gold, shining bright like harvest petals.
She grabbed the moon as the stars screamed,
“From season to season, I’ll love you always! My one, my only, my sunshine.”