If love were a buttercup without any rain ,
If love were the suns scorching rays ,
If love were a melody of two lovers dancing as two fish get cought  up in a net ,
then struggling for their last fleeting breath ?
then why are the daffodils in such need of such rain ?
For  lt is like the downpours of spring followed by parched cracked earth again .

Then perhaps love is sometimes never to be found ,
buried in a Cist or a hole in the ground ?
And loves darkest alley ways are where we first met ,
a life time of sorrows I would live to regret ?

So if you see me passing think not of any of these things ,
Think only of love and what it might bring .
Think only of the times we shared ,
a kiss and a cuddle and the moon lit airs .
Think only ,
Think of me
awaiting your love by the old fir tree .