The Twelfth of Never
When cheerful daisies fail to bloom in Spring
and the buds dry on the vine;
when the robin no longer attempts to sing
and the rivers turn into brine;
when the fireflies of Summer do not glow
and the rain can’t reach the earth;
when the seven seas cease their ebb and flow
and the ship is mired in its berth;
when Autumn loses its brilliant colors
and prevailing winds stand still;
when nevermore dwell ardent lovers
and hearts shed their romantic thrill;
when Winter holds no wonders to show
and the sun, no reason to shine;
when the mountain knows not of snow
and the stars refuse to align;
when you are gone and no longer in sight
and I no longer your face can imbue;
when your touch leaves and takes its flight,
then that’s when I’ll stop loving you.
Copyright © Linda Alice Fowler | Year Posted 2020
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