The days and seasons cycle rhythmically

Patterns determined at time’s first dawn

The tapestry of hearts wasn’t then written in stone

Its left to us weavers to spin love’s silky threads

As you two weaved the first stiches of love

The golden summer warmed your spinning fingers

Yet I worked on our pattern in winter’s gloomy light

That your stiches matched mine heated my heart

The seasons have changed as they are wont to

My love bloomed with the flowers of a southern spring

Yours was coloured in oak and maple’s autumn hue

Seasonal colours are now stitched in our tapestry of love

The icy fingers of winter now cool your hearts

Wind whispering the siren’s call in chilling words

Is wasteland a hibernation of summer’s promise?

But no, my loves, our golden summer is safe here with me

Here the mercury soars on December afternoons

Foreshowing a Christmas’ gift of liquid humidity

We can walk in the warmth on a carpet of falling jacaranda flowers

Adding their purple colour to our palette of love

The seasons will cycle as they always have

We have spun the threads of our love into tapestry

Our stiches reflect all the seasonal colours

Their pattern will reflect both summer sun and winter fire

Our die is cast and hangs in our hearts

Constant is the pattern reflected by our love

We have our tapestry fixed before the cruellest month

Resistant to February’s biting cold and stinking hot humidity

While the seasons and the tides will forever flow around us

The golden tapestry now constantly guides our lives

Trouble and strife begat trouble and strife

My love for you my wives, is totally impervious to fire and ice