Till snow all melts and dies,
while weeping willow cries.
I’ll sleep until the spring,
where soaring skylarks sing.
When seasons turn once more,
and sea, sunset and shore
recall to memory
her blonde hair flapping free.
She was my summer love,
when there were gods above,
and she would always wait
to meet, by kissing gate,
till darkness it was gone
and light, it lit upon
our souls, down by the stream,
where love was all we’d dream.
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Author:
Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 7th, 2025 05:30
- Comment from author about the poem: remastered
- Category: Love
- Views: 3
Offline)
Comments1
A most beautiful poem of a love that was always there through the turning of seasons. Nicely done
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