The sight of you beneath a blossomed tree,
With joy and peace my grateful heart has filled,
Have me confused which beauty gives to me
The sight that time has perfectly distilled.
Your youth decays not as the seasons do,
To leaves that shed at time’s untimely hand,
And though they colour to many shades of hue,
The gentle Autumn fades by your command.
Their taller limbs seem not your arms decrease,
For your embrace stands firm in swifter gust,
Your own green leaves do whisper 'never cease',
And my confusion turns into a must:
Your beauty stands beside the blossom's heart,
Which from my words now never has to part.
