In colors vivid, either gloomy or bright,
In red, violet, yellow, or even in blue,
Has love been defined to not my heart, my soul but to my sight,
And I saw each hue, without an ounce of woe,
For it had my eyelids crease and I ceased to move,
And just sat loving the colors of love.
In weathers different Cold or warm
Has love been defined to the skin of my arm,
And I felt each brush of breeze without an ounce of fear,
For it bore no seething thunder, nor was it bitter,
For its touch was only kind, when in presence near,
Oh when love bears the features of summer, winter,
How I just sit wishing for it to only last forever.