Seasons of the Moon

The springtime of our distant youth was when we made sweet love beneath a silver moon. The whole of life stretched out before us then. Our future, a promise, a perfect tune. Our silver moon, through time, would change her face to hot summer red where our love did grow. And our happiness, at one with life’s pace, moved through the years in a soft gentle flow Our love, strong and sure, was faithful to hold Like heat tempered steel forged in the fire. Our full harvest moon shone late autumn gold No waning, nor want, in our fond desire Life’s years have flown by, turns winter moon blue But here near the end, our love still proves true.