Hearken the tears of winter,
Life springs from such frigid tombs.
Running quiet, water trickles,
Caressing each tree as it blooms.
Bladed pavement tickles hares,
Paranoid, yet forgiving of mother.
Each tulip yawns in sun's embrace,
Yet none the same as one another.
Lie still and stare in awe,
For spring has come, she gave the call.
Let the sky paint a smile upon your face,
Perhaps we shall see these trees grow tall.
