A CYCLIC ROMANCE
Winter stays among the snowdrops,
Was it you I noticed there?
Passing by above the hedgetops
I stooped down and found your lair.
I must admit your season suits you
But your hideout hems you in.
After all, if I’m to woo you,
You vanquish first before I win.
I have no fear that we’re not fitted;
Winter melts at Spring’s advance.
We’ll be seasonally suited
To the sway of choosy chance.
The verses above were composed by me a long time ago – in the quixotic fervour of my youth. The photographs are my own, taken in the Cotswolds, UK, in more recent times