The seed is sown,
They stand apart.
The plant grows out,
Hands are held now
The tree rises,
Hearts connect.
The fruits are borne,
The love is sown.

The leaves fall,
Grip loosens.
Trees go barren,
Hearts are frozen.
Brown leaves pile high,
The love seems to die

Tiny leaves make way,
Flies away the doubt.
The tree is full of green,
Hands again entwine.
A tiny plant  sprouts,
Love makes way somehow.

The tree gets old,
Yet the lovers rest assured.
The tiny plant becomes a tree,
A sign of love renewed.
The old tree dies,
But the lovers don't exchange goodbyes.