Pandora's Box

In the bronze glow of the summer day, in the greens of wheat and chromes of hay, like a speck of gold on these emerald parks, she sparks and darts, frolicking with larks. In the bleak open skies of the autumn's eve, in the browns of leaves and as old trees grieve, like a silver swan with a fore-telling cry, she sings across lakes and hailing end of dry. In the wisps of drizzle of the rainy morn, in the rolling streams over round stones worn, like a gentle tulip over shiny moss, she blushes and smiles with lips so gloss. In the grays and whites of the winter night, in the tart chilly breeze and doors shut tight, like a tender flame in the crackling fire, she dances and capers with joy and no tire. P.S. Whatever the season, whatever the hue, whatever the mood and even when I am blue, you fill me with joy and keep bothers at bay, for you my love,  I write this song on this day, `Coz if I know what love is, it is because of you!