SIGNS.
Soft as fine cobwebs that dance the vine.
Moist as the droplets that dew last roses.
Warm as first taste of a homemade wine
Is love that once sampled steadily grows.
Harsh as north wind to willow\'s branches.
Cold as the sea-side\'s wintery aloneness.
Dry as walled seedlings starved of access.
Is love that once wilted belief overthrows
Winnow moody signs.
Divide chaff from grain.
Re-discover good times
and come, love me again.