First Love
By sidewinder
First love is the beautiful blossoms of wild flowers in the spring, And then it becomes the green meadows of summer, And as it draws to an end, It becomes first the falling of the leaves in fall and then the cold hibernation of winter... But do not fear for there is always a hope of a new spring, For with death there comes a birth eternal in its promise, Balanced only in time, Yet in that memory another year begins. July 3, 2000 By: B.E. Whitehorn & Tosha Bouwer Written January 15th, 2002 © on Jan 15 2002 10:25 AM PST, Billy E. Whitehorn 0 • 8
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About this line
"First love is the beautiful blossoms..."