To fall in love is a natural thing.
From when it’s first planted in early spring,
we nurture its growth until it takes wing.
Our passions ignite from a heated sun,
alive in the warmth of what can be done
when two summer souls are meshed into one.
And sometimes like leaves that change in the fall,
the colorful palettes begin to pall,
becoming the victims of autumn’s call.
But those who continue through winter’s blast
find comfort in what they have both amassed
to weather each season by standing fast.
Relationships fail if only a fling.
With no real foundation on which to cling,
love morphs into an unnatural thing.
© Susan Schoeffield
Written for the 10/8/14 prompt at Poetic Asides to write a “natural” poem.