All the shortest summers,
I compare a love to a beautiful day,
Tempted temperatures; this artistry close to lust,
There's a careless wind of having nothing to say.

But summer's a bit short,
by these winter chills down my spine,
You leave so lovely; missing a bright complexion,
And of course; that lovely bright smile.

All that's fair; but feels dimmed, and trimmed,
Cut off from your love, I held to my very last,
Opened my eyes to yours; to feel I once dreamed.

But I do scare of beauty's fade; coming to our age,
When all our possessions are but empty, and cold,
Children remembering us as shadows under shade.

Time grows. And I've grown deep roots into love,
But love often is this constant battleground.

But I'll be one keen to fight all for you.