Our love was beautiful,

innocent and sweet. 

Like flower buds on a tree, seeing the sun for the first time.   

It grew into fresh fruit, refreshing everyone who encountered it.

Then autum came and our fruit dropped to the ground, taking the leaves with it. 

Although it was a sign of death, I still found it beautiful.

We were breath taking.

Our love flowed like rivers and streams hidden deep in the forest. 

Then the cold came, and she came. 

We lost our spark. You spent more time with her, and allowed her to burrow her way into our tree.

Slowly, she took our nutrition and ripped the roots out from under us.  

She froze the remains of us and eventually we died.

Then you grew a new tree with her, using our dead fruit and leaves as nutrients.

Now a new frost has spread and this new winter has killed your tree with her.

This cycle will remain until you have learned how to shelter your tree from the cold. 

But the saddest part is that our tree was not grown from the cold that killed the leaves in which your trees now grow.

Our love was sprouted from the sun, it was fresh and new, and innocent.