Real Love


Does not fade when the militant shadows smother the August sun
But deepens with the oranges and crimsons of the September sunset.
Does not wilt with the rose petals in the cutting winds of October
But flourishes in the chocolate and golden browns of the leaves.

Gathering strength from change and adversity
Like a sunbeam glancing off the crispness of the brilliant November snow
Secure and warm in her immortal clothing
She stares down the weary nights of winter.

Her roots reach deeper than December’s murderous grey
Buds springing from the hard ground
Victorious over the cold and bleakness of January.

Emerging through lengthening days,
February submits to her unflinching intent.
Blazing dabs of yellow, blue and white on the expectant canvas of spring
No longer demure, she proudly displays herself.

Precocious but old, like time, like forever
Like the sea, like the waves, in March, wild like the wind
Always hoping, always persevering and never failing
In cruellest April. Indestructible.

In May she smiles and dances in her beautiful dress
Ready to seduce the summer.

In June, glorious in her party clothes, laughing,
delighting, desiring, enchanting,
Flirtatious but ever faithful
And in the balmy nights of July
She kisses me softly and holds me closer than ever.

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