To the pear you are my orange.
To the orange an apple is seed.
To the seed I am your growth.
And this growth it’s our world.
Our world invites the seasons.
To the seasons there is a reason.
Colours leaving in time return.
Breath o’ chill resounds winter.
Warmth of newness is in spring.
Summer invigorates our being.
Falling leaves no longer cleave.
Sprouts grow, live in our heart.
Memories are what ne’er part.
Amid inner tensions in our life.
Fruition is there for us to grasp.