Seasons of Love
I have climbed the hills of all seasons,
found love, and descended;
I have found it through heat, rain and snow,
and lo, it's never ended.
When others are sleeping, I'm out in the
woods and the fields, reveling by the
grass and the trees.
But the question remains, which is my preferred season?
Love is a year-round affair,
and it's surely a treason
to yield to less than four season.
To go with the drift of seasons
is love's real reason;
bow and accept love's logic
or simply love unreason.
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