Amber

My gentle love is Amber

she is elegant and soft.

She is a compelling form

with her beauty held aloft.

Her face is crisp as morning sun

and her smile is just as clear.

Her voice has colourful crunch

so I know when she is near.

Her golden skin radiates

in the upmost branch of mine.

Her splendour on show to see

in the sky she looks divine.

Her auburn curls blaze and glisten

in the sunset’s soft meek light

and she ruefully rustles

at the day becoming night.

The dark brings the bitter chill

of the winds whispering voice,

inducing her to part with me;

his force leaving little choice.

Her eyes look into mine

as she pulls from my embrace,

but without my stable arms

she falls flat on her face.

My obstinate roots stay firm

for I will not move my stance,

I am wise enough to know

this frost ends our romance.

My leaves have all but fallen

and lie scattered on the floor.

All my colour is forlorn

and I can bear the wind no more.

Yet I know spring will come

and with it new leaves will grow.

But when the seasoned sun will stay

I think I will never know.