Seasons Pass

Oh Dear, my wife, Our spring of love bloomed long ago, Bright, vernal days of tempting eyes, Your hand in mine, soft kisses fluttered, And romance, deeply, spread its roots Each night I held you in my arms; You flourished, bride, Through summer years, pert newlywed With teasing glance and sultry curves, Each kiss we shared, an August sun— But sun must sink and families thrive: We soothed pink babies in our arms On autumn’s brink, Choice, mirthful years we reaped young love, Watched children grow and learn from us While hands we held, exuding pride As each leaf changed and fluttered off— Outside a dorm, they felt our arms … Yes, seasons pass: Now winter’s chill we gird against, Our love, white embers glowing hot, Each day and night bedecked with joy— And passion, still, does warm me through Each time you hold me in your arms. September 15, 2017 Hold Me In Your Arms Poetry Contest, Julie Rodeheaver, Sponsor