Rose of winter is wilted in the stay
Kept between pages of good old yesterday
Craft and thought hidden in the words left to say
Neatly saved for springs first rain filled rainbow on display

Linger here for a while join me in the view she was pretty but not as pretty as you
Kept in special honor on the stage brightest window spot from summer haze
Content of heart is often left just beyond the view of new lovers namely you
But watch the tulip bud raise its head it does not know what lies ahead

A perfect spring has come in the morning sun I hear the robin watch the worm run
Spring rose is but a bud starting to form on the vine and if I look close
I see a piece of winters gray and in between the pages I turn away
Late of life I walk the path of warm excepting new flowers in form