The earth from whence the flowers spring
grows hard and cold with age.
The ocean and its turbid flings,
invokes a burning rage.
Against the stromy mountain peaks,
a face lies kind and pale.
From weathered trees shines her mystique,
where each line tells a tale.
Oh seasons come and seasons go
as daylight turns to night.
My love for you will ever glow,
a sun of frozen light.
The stream of time will onwards flow,
and we will drift apart.
But my love for you will ever grow,
til death lays still my heart.
Author's Note: I wrote this for my mother but I'm afraid of giving it to her. It really isn't very good but it was the best I could do at the time. It isn't easy for me to write poems of a positive nature. *sigh* I really need to get a job. Then maybe, I could get her a real gift.