Some say the time for love is Spring,
While nature blooms and newborn sing.
The innocent year's early hour
Is when the seeds of want will flower.
But others claim that Summer's best,
When suns are neither east nor west,
But overhead in youthful glory -
The longest page in love's short story.
Still others think that in the Fall
there's love for one and love for all -
While sailing under the autumn trees
Passion's true course is charted with ease.
And some prefer the frozen heart -
Cold white Winter's the place to start -
With no warmth to gain and none to lose,
The lonely, lifeless snows they choose.
But as for me the choice is clear:
'Tis every season I hold dear,
For time itself is time for lovers,
It matters not what climate covers.
Flowers and leaves, snow and sun -
When I'm with you, seasons are one;
A year of love I now live through,
And years will become a life with you.