SIGNS.
Soft as the cobwebs that dance the vine.
Moist as the droplets that dew the rose.
Warm as the first drink of ruby red wine
Is love that once planted, happily grows.
Harsh as a gale to willow\'s bare branch.
Cold as a winter woodland\'s alone-ness .
Dry as duo silence dehydrating romance
Is love that once wilted joy it dethrones.
Winnow the signs, divide chaff from grain.
Re-discover lost laughter, taste love again.