Love comes with the breath of spring ,
where new lovers share their first kiss.
In a time where love is as beautiful and as fragile as a glass rose.

Love comes in the heat of summers noon,
where war tinges the air like a bloody cloud.
When the kiss of passion and the cry of the sword
beats within ones chest, Like a caged dragon, fighting to be free.

Love comes with the mists of fall,
with the changing of the leaves.
Lovers walk hand in hand through the paths they once walked
in the springtime, while softly wondering if their hearts,
like the colors of the leaves will change.

Love comes with the icy grip of winter,
a cold that chills to the bone.
It is the time when one will unselflessly give
their last blanket to warm the one they love.

Seasons will change and time is eternal,
Every ending is a new beginning
Every beginning is also an ending,
but these three things never die.
Time, Hope and Love.

One of my old poems found in a notebook while I was cleaning