Love is a paradox of ice and flame

That can both warm or freeze a heart in kind,

As fickle yellow suns will wax and wane

To paint by season, changing jots of time.

White snows of winter make us dream of June

And pray green springtide melts away all snow,

But scarlet August and its hothouse moons

Soon make us wish for golden autumn’s glow.

So can the human heart transmute with time

And pied in purpose, dance both warm and cold,

One moment pink of smiles and joys sublime,

The next a frigid frown blue, brash and bold.

From frosted mornings on to sultry nights—

Hued thermal contradictions give love spice.