The grass grows green on warm summer days
  near the pools of a spring fed brooke.
The birds sing songs of life and love,
  as over this scene I look.
Warm is the sun that shines that,
  the same as from the beginning of time.
Fresh is the love you give to me,
  warm is the love that is mine.
The grass may wither, the pools dry up,
  and the birds stop singing their song.
The sun may stop sending its warmth down to earth,
  but our love will always be strong.
I look upon you as on that first day,
  though years take us far from our start.
For we are one and have been held
  by a love that comes from the heart.

--Phillip Hayes