A woman I love is summer, wet skin quite warm on mine. The flames of passion become her in sultry nights divine. She also finds fall pleasing. With change she does adapt, lending pleasure in all seasons with love endless and untapped. Winter will not find her dormant. She's weathered cold before. Two hearts in each's orbit, will remain evermore. By spring she's resurrected and I'm in love again. We are cosmically connected with a raging fire within. 12/18/19