a poem by Nancy Ellen Crossland, USA - poetry writer, author, poet

Does a season exist for lovers
In the latter stage of life?

Indeed it does.
They've perspired in the summer of their youth
Played out the games of hide and seek
Searching for love's truth

If blessed,
They rode the wave of passion's crest
Felt the sand cool beneath their feet;
Sunsets so magnificent
Their eyes reflected magenta and gold
Kissed beneath starlit skies,
Bonded, merged
Two lives became complete as one
Embracing every morning sun

Yet the fairytale often sought becomes
A blank page
Taking a different turn:
The chill of autumn as leaves transform
Strangers soon evolve,
Once the warmth fades turning grey
Metamorphosing in the stark white winter
As a stagnant pond

In the season of reflection;
With its blossoms and fragrances
Discovery of peace and hope
Disquietude erased
Replaced with expectation and renewal
There it is:
All the seasons experienced in life
Merged, evolved, heralding the season unique
That season of love exclusive to those who have lived life;
Now is their season.

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