On a bright spring morning, we stand on a hill holding hands, and watch the sunrise. you put your arm around my shoulder, adding your warmth to mine.
It’s summer and we sleep under a full moon, counting blinking fireflies. We tell each other fairytales and make wishes on falling stars.
In the autumn we gather the last of the apples, licking sticky Winesap juice from our lips. You call me, “Sweetheart.” I call you, “Baby.”
Winter is quickly approaching. There is a chill in the air and our days are shorter. We shall sit together, waiting for the sunset.
Thin spiral notebook 
Fairytale is right! 🙂 Isn’t this what many of us grow up imagining as what “being in love” would be like? I know I did. Not that being in love now as an adult is totally different than this ideal described… ours has certainly grown over the seasons, but maybe without each perfect little vignette. This was really lovely.
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I love Carrie’s comment. I feel that way too, like it takes a long time to grow an old love and it happens in seasons, through trials and storms and beautiful blue-skys days. It’s the growing that’s necessary for your roots staying firmly planted.
that picture of the bench (add it to my list of pictures I want to buy…okay? I just love it)
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It feels like it’s more than just seasons…it’s time. Spring is new love, youth and by winter we get security, comfort, and a couple who have been together for decades 🙂
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In the first stanza you wrote, “… you puts your arm …”. I think you meant “put”.
That said, this is yet another glimpse into that lovely and creative mind of yours. Well done.
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You keep me honest, Lou… thanks!
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The picture is perfect. I felt and saw them sitting and holding hands and imagined their facial expressions.
I think John would love this.
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