Come To Me

Come to me, come to me, sweet love,
in spring when daffodils bloom
and the ice floes melt into clear clean streams
by our soft bed of moss in the glen.

Come to me, come to me, sweet love,
in the heat of the summer sun,
where trees bow their heads in a canopy
shading us on the soft grassy lawn.

Come to me, come to me, sweet love,
as fall's rich scents fill the air
where brilliant leaves whisper above us
and crunch neath our blanket below.

Come to me, come to me, sweet love,
as crisp winter snows swirl outside
and the glow from the fire is matched by our own
on the rug, come to me, sweet love.

by C.J. Heck

Comments (4)

A beautiful insight into the soul of a woman, who happen to write poetry With a warmth allan
O to meet you on the road not taken, Seejay.. beautiful.
Absolutely beautiful and one for me to save. Chrissie
CJ, This is beautiful, and so visual. Sue.