The eye of the beholder

Winter's end and summer is nigh,
Not a cloud seen, in the sky.
Soon it will be, time for spring,
The nightingales have already begun to sing.

The sky seems blue, the colour of joy,
The river plays about ,the sand being her toy.
Trees dance together, to the hum of the birds,
The young hearts run away, away from the herds.

My heart beats louder, calling out to my love,
There...she answers me, as she calls out to me now.
Oh...its just the sound of leaves talking to each other,
I haven't found her yet, why doesn't she call back, brother?

Clouds suddenly appear and pour down drops to the Earth,
The clouds are not dark, but white across their girth.
The wind blows about, as my ropes of doubt untie,
It whistles in my ear, as it passes me by.

I learn a valuable lesson, from the image that I see,
That love on this Earth, has always been for me.
It, but lies in the eyes of the beholder,
The beauty of love, strikes the young and the older.

The moon does change form, attracting the oceans of the land,
The waters cannot rise high though, withheld by the love of the sand.
The wind blows about, searching for itself in vain,
If it only could have known, only love for another can gain.

The clouds talk to the sun, through the thunderous sound,
Through he raindrops pouring below, its joy it does expound.
The Earth receives the water, an unfailing task,
Oh...love of a better kind, how could I ever ask?