Actioned by the seasonal term,
We met near autumn's final turn.
Trees breathed bare without their leaves,
While birds pecked gently at scattered seeds.
Leaves adorned the forest floor,
As our love grew more and more.
The fruits ripened with the sun,
And so, with them, our love begun.
Winter came with biting cold,
While all our quiet tales were told.
As fair and bright as falling snow,
Our love began to softly glow.
Like seasons change from sun to rain,
Love bloomed through joy and also pain.
Though storms we faced along the way,
True love, it never does betray.
Durga Mishra (D1M)
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