In early spring when love is new
And
hearts are light and troubles few,
We
see the world in quick review
And
dream of all we've yet to do.
The
summertime is meant for play.
Sun
and fun fill every day.
Worries
can't get in the way
And
rules are meant to disobey.
Autumn's
harvest comes and goes.
Dawn
to dusk the burden grows.
Where
it may lead us, no one knows.
Still
the labor is a rose.
A
rose that stands the winter chill
To
bloom defiantly until
The
bitter winter winds are still
And
peaks of snow dance on the hill.
Seasons
come and seasons go
And
who are we to think we know.
But
love survives each bitter blow
From
springtime bloom to winter snow.
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