Love is like the wind,
While you can’t see it, you can feel when it’s there.
You might not know that it is coming,
But you welcome it’s refreshing air. ...
Browning, old fellow,
Your leaves grow yellow,
Beginning to mellow
As seasons pass.
Your cover is wrinkled,
And stained and sprinkled,
And warped and crinkled
From sleep on the grass.
... Read complete poem