There was a season of love When all things shone, Making the common, uncommonly beautiful . . . A child skipping rope, After sun turning the lake's water to liquid gold, Twilight shadows on a steeple And all kinds of people. It was a stanza of time Outside all common calendars, Days when only the heart ticked the time, And tinted the flowers and the trees. It was truly a season of love, When nothing else mattered But sharing our thoughts, tears and laughter, There was never a happier time . . . Before or after.