The Four Seasons

                                 "  Pulchrorum Autumnus Pulcher"      

                                               The Four Seasons                              

Spring is your breath,

Your fragrances have tugged at my heartstrings;

Summer is the throb of your pulse,

The days are long, and the feelings are hot-blooded;

Autumn is your elegance

The tang of your maturity is like the brilliant color glowing;

Winter is your vanity

Your face haunts my dreams like idle breeze playing music upon my heart