He is as cold as early winter, as bold and uninhibited as the north wind.
She is as sad as the cool autumn, like fallen leaves, swaying in the wind.
He will never marry.
She will never marry.
He is as passionate as early summer, and she is as innocent as ice and snow.
Can love compete with time?
The deeper we love, the more we lose the battle with time.
Like, a moth flying into a flame.