Love comes and goes like Autumn wind that blows;
It whips us up like dead seeds from the mud,
When life has left us grounded from the flood,
That dripping downward Fall upon us throws.

We can’t control just where or when it grows,
Nor where our fragile souls the gust may thud.
Nowhere can we see our flower bud
As up and down we float like rhythmic prose.

Yet love, oh love, your tale must surely not end here,
When Winter holds us frozen in its grasp,
For soon the sun will shine when skies they clear,
And melting snow Spring’s forth our love at last!

Though next the Summer sun will warmly shine,
The Autumn wind cannot be far behind…