Like the ocean's tide, young love advances,
blind to the inexorable retreat

Like the grass, young love grows,
but not far from the winter's frost

Like a breeze, young love stirs,
unaware of the hurricane force

Like the moon, young love shines,
but soon to be halved or quartered

Like the birds, young love soars,
with its back to the eventual return

Like the sun, young love warms,
oblivious to the inevitable setting

Like a rose, young love blooms,
unwary of the waiting wilt

Like the rain, young love pours,
without mooring for the coming flood

Copyright 2008, Frederick V. Romano