In fields where Robert Frost once walked,
Love whispered secrets through the pines.
His words, like frost upon the leaves,
Unveiled the warmth in winter’s lines.

Beneath the moon’s soft, silver light,
He found the path where hearts entwine.
Each step a verse, each breath a rhyme,
In nature’s arms, love’s pure design.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
Where echoes of his love abide.
In every shadow, every beam,
Love’s gentle touch, a timeless guide.

Through snowy nights and sunlit days,
His love remains, a constant flame.
In Frost’s embrace, we find our way,
To hearts that beat in love’s sweet name.