Love Is But Only Four Seasons Poem by Mark Heathcote

Love Is But Only Four Seasons



Love is but only four seasons
the first is spring apple blossom kissed.
The second when songbirds sing less succinct
the third when autumn fruits are all prefixed
the last when hearts are one, no longer coexist.
Love is but four seasons
but with each, there is never any thriftiness.

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