Somewhere it is always spring, that spring,
it is now, and it ever shall be.
The leaves are still unfurling, the sun is still upward whirling,
the rain is still fresh from snowy mountains,
and the rivers are ripe with glacial waters.
Sometime it is always that time. That moment where we stopped
and looking into each other's eyes,
felt the world stop turning beneath our feet,
felt our hearts stop beating in our chests,
at the same instant, the same moment.
And in that silence that we found
above the void of precipitating ground,
there came a start to what started stopped,
And now every day is as it was once then.
We walk hand in hand in that spring,
we look star-ward at the uncurling clouds by night,
We marvel at the moon's rich glorious light.
We tell our friends, one then all,
of how this glorious spring will never fall.
And never fallen before heat's onslaught,
nor touched by autumn burning dying orange,
nor sieged by snows and frozen torment,
we will never wonder where that time went.
Because Somewhere it is always spring,
I know this because there, is my heart,
and in that secret shire there always sings,
the song of vernal love, and what it brings.