Harvest of Hearts

Amidst fields, under the molten gold sunrise,
Where whispers of love and loss intertwine,
Grows the unyielding harvest of hearts, precise,
Seasons cycle, in love's labor, they align.

The sprouts of spring, tender and mild,
Roots entangle in a quiet, hopeful start,
Through summer's blaze, passions run wild,
In autumn, the harvesting of the intertwined heart.

Each beat, a grain, each sigh, a leaf,
Falling, swirling in the cool, crisp air,
In the harvest of hearts, we find relief,
In the bounty of love, openly share.

But winter comes, with its icy sheath,
And the fields lie bare, under the frosted dome,
Yet beneath the snow, beats warmth beneath,
Until spring's call, once more, to roam.

So cycles the harvest from year to year,
Through joy and sorrow, through laughter and tears,
Each season's end, to our hearts, so dear,
Brings the promise of love, erasing all fears.