In the first springtime of our love
Everything was as fresh and new,
And tender as the bright green leaves
Bursting forth from winter’s drab coat,
Alive with burgeoning desire
And the joy of revelation
As we explored in sweet delight,
The pale tones of our nakedness
Subtle as the cherry blossoms
On the trees outside your window,
Every kiss replete with promise
Of greater wonders yet to come.
*****
With summer our passion burned bright,
The colours of our lustfulness
Fiery as the rampant spires
Of red and gold of the flowers
That grew in unchecked profuseness
In the gardens where secretly
We nightly danced in ecstasy,
Our flesh hot with untamed yearning,
As we consummated our love,
In the unquenchable rapture
And carnal exhilaration
Of intoxicating desire.
*****
The unforgiving march of time
Sadly, could not be long denied,
And as the season turned to fall
So your ardour cooled and died,
The ripe colours of your passion
Withering like the fallen leaves
In grubby piles in the gutters,
To be washed away by the rain
Until all trace of joy was lost,
The rapture of our summer love
Just a fugitive memory
As I wait for spring to return.
Late Flowers 