My Love, There Is No Winter Poem by G. Newton V. Chance

My love, there is no winter,
here,
in the suburbs of my heart;
the house wrens never leave
for warmer ground.

No snow-capped mountain peaks
to loom and freeze your climb;
at the apex of this heart,
nothing but tropic heat,
wild and tropic heart-heat
of a wildly throbbing heartbeat.
What is a little fog compared to frost;
love may lose her way
but the song will not be lost-
long as restless wrens
are twittering in the portals,
inviting you to enter,
enter into my aorta,
its arterial rural streams
to the tropical rainforest
of my soul.

In my soul there is no winter,
only cool, clear springs of water
and the green, cascading laughter
of an unpolluted river.

Water falling, flowing, filling
love pools full of lovers
wading, bathing, diving, swimming,
drinking, filling,
pouring pitchers full of liquid
life and love
from pellucid pools of love.
Follow my forest river,
forever-flowing river,
to the womb-warm waters
of tranquility.
Bask and bathe in rainbows
in the sunny, sandy idyll of my bay,
my sheltered cay;
in the womb-warm waters
of the Sea of Me.

My love, there is no winter
in my heart;
only sunshine, endless sunshine,
nothing but endless sunshine,
with a little rain of course.

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