Come Winter Come Spring
How is it that, come winter come spring,
in the wind and the sorrow, in the light and the dark,
when time passes and all sighs expire,
as the sun rises over all living things,
and the rivers flow into the bed of night,
while the stars splash light around the sky,
and the moon sighs over the sounding dusk,
still in every confluence of music and light,
in each footfall on the recumbent twilight,
the song of you, the song of you
unending, uninterrupted, unquenchable,
fills my heart with such precious memory
of everything and anything at all
that was ever you, that ever moved
through my life and filled my eyes:
always and forever, dear girl,
the miracle and mystery of you,
the song of love
the song of you.
Christopher M. Swan 2010
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