The day is old, but you are young,
And now your praises must be sung.
Outside it rains, but you look fine,
Held close within these arms of mine.
The day is done, but you've begun
To fill my life with shining sun.
'Tis winter now, but you are spring;
You make my soul rejoice and sing.
The winds may blow, but you are calm;
You radiate the purest charm.
The trees now sleep, but you awaken
Feeling I had long forsaken.
The night is cold, but you are warm.
Your lovely face and shapely form
Enthral me, but your tender heart
Will always be my favourite part
Copyright © Robert Haigh 1996