The Season of Love
By Fiza Pathan
The season of love is arriving melting the snow into spring,
But without a lover, I cannot mend my viola, which is tuned to his sighs.
Night after night, I beckon his memories into my dreams, with a silver moon enticement.
He is silent forever, but I shall always remember him to my soul every dawn, when the sun washed dry, arises from the sea.
Come home to me my lover with your tender words to me,
Our goals are but one river that is drawn towards the stream of God’s eternity.
Don’t spoil the rhythm of my song with lyrics about separation and parting.
When you shall call out my name, I’ll leave my shadow behind,
And return to your arms with lips of love parted to kiss yours.
But dearest where are you gone now-away from our reminiscences and old memories stale
Yet will I remember-recall-proclaim my devotion to you each time the cuckoo bird beckons the sky to send rain.
Until my moans turn into dust in my grave, don’t forget to love me in the spring.
I’ll be silent while the harp plays into the night about old songs and delights.
Come home to me foreigner so close to my heart,
The season of love and amour is arriving in my soul tonight.
Copyright © 2014 by Fiza Pathan
Image courtesy: http://www.morguefile.com/archive/display/208222
Early_red_tulips.jpgBy clconroy
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