Love comes like the summer breeze,
And is slain as autumn leaves from trees,
Yet scents rebound in each summer garden,
As all discordant peeps, receive pardon.
Very Mother Mary, what is she to me,
Whose sinless son, helped the blind to see?
And the wandering ones, so like the wind,
In the heart of a mother, found a friend.
She suffered inwardly, along with her son,
Long before they knew He was the One;
And God richly blessed her silent tears-
Blossoms abloom for endless years!
God Whom all nature echoes His glory,
And sent His son to tell His story,
Knows the secrets of all the lazy days,
And grants the sunshine of His warm ways!
May the former agony become ecstasy-
Butterflies from tree to tree!
In Mother's eyes, love never dies.
I dance with the fireflies!