The Thorns and Thistles - welcome poem!

It is always the spring for young lovers, whose fluttering hearts refuse to be silent, beating with such heat and passion as to melt the snow, thumping like rabbits at the first sight of budding green sprouts, opening like the yawning flowers, waking from their wintery sleep to find that their dreams of love have come true—that the sun shines bright on the ripe fields of life that lay before them, Hearts that feel so light in their chests at thoughts of amors, that no matter how far apart they are in the world, a single familiar smell, sight, or sound, fetching the faintest remembrance of the other makes their coupled soul split through the air like a screaming jet, appearing to mortals as a shooting star, yes, this twin spirit, in an instant, will make its speedy pilgrimage to its holy of holies until Thomas and Ariana are one, until Miami and pittsburgh are one, sweethearts floating above our heads like oranges quivering on the branch in the morning chill, garlanded by white blossoms and rainbow refracting beads of dew, whispering dreams of future sweetness, savoring the peaks of each other's electrified, bumpy skin, savoring their life as a pair, laughing together because they were made for eachother, and found each other, and because they know that only an orange could rhyme with another orange.