A flower sprouts
while two big smiles shine,
the leaves are green
but the love is white.

It’s pure,
it’s gentle,
it’s still,
it’s young.

As beautiful as a peony,
as vivid as a marigold,
morning mist in its petals,
newborn seeds finally unlatched.

One mind,
one heart,
one soul,
one love.

The warmer weather arrives,
the sun peaks through the sky,
it’s salty, sandy and sunny,
a whole other side of paradise.

Daylight prevails,
everything is bliss and joy,
as the sunlight beams,
over two pairs of eyes.

It’s tender but fun,
it’s kind but lively,
it’s mellow, it’s cozy,
it’s hot. Too hot.

The smiles start to drop,
the leaves follow.
The trees are now empty,
no noise, no color.

Everything that seemed
so perfect,
is now turning bitter,
passionless, aloof.

There’s not four,
but two eyes now,
weary and weak,
threatening to flood.

The hues are now brown,
it’s scary to throw away
all that affection,
but seems necessary.

Nights are cold,
clouds are full and loaded,
of sleepless dark hours,
and murky daytimes.

The white foam seems soft,
a safe and comforting pillow,
but it’s nothing more than
a frozen cradle.

The air is chilly,
fingers are numb,
but they still manage to
wrap around a hand,
equally as cold,
equally as dull.

Two minds,
two hearts,
two souls,
no love.