Light as a feather, yet heavy as lead.
His heart is a flutter, and he's easily led.
Spring is afoot, there's a skip in his stride.
His mind in the clouds, his eyes open wide.

There's love in the air, he can feel himself changing.
He's breathing deeply again, and his senses engaging.
With a fine warming arrow, Cupid struck his heart well.
But missed his dear sweetheart, she's not under the spell.

The waiting is over, something's about to begin.
His emotions are stirring, somewhere within.
White lines speed by, but he's not in control.
Floundering around like a fish out of it's bowl.

There's love in the air, the taste of it is tangible and sweet.
He is caught inside its wondrous fabric, enclosed from head to feet.
Slipping round slowly in spirals between each silky smooth fold.
But his true love is not smitten, doesn't want to stand in the cold.

He's smiling at flowers, frowning at trees.
She's left him there standing, rather than freeze.
He still sees sunshine, when around him is rain.
Happy to stand there, till she comes again.

There's love in the air, but he is once more a statue.