In days of old, when spring began,
Two kingdoms clashed, a bitter span,
Their hatred deep, their anger hot,
Their swords clashed, in a battle fought.

But in the midst of all the strife,
A love was born, like sprouts of life,
Two hearts that beat as one, despite
The hatred that they’d learned to cite.

Their love was true, their passion strong,
But from their kingdoms, cries of wrong,
Forbade them from their love to show,
And forced them to keep it low.

In spring, when life begins anew,
Their love grew strong, and blossomed too,
But just as quickly, came the end,
As summer’s heat began to blend.

For though their love was strong and true,
Their kingdoms’ hatred, it outgrew,
And in the end, they had to part,
Their love, like spring, was but a start.

And so their love, like springtime’s bloom,
Was beautiful, but met its doom,
For though their love was strong and fair,
Their kingdoms’ hatred, it did not spare.