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Spring
Fall softly on my sleeping dreams, like soft rain in the spring,
and let them ripen in friendly earth and to them softly sing
a lullaby to help them grow and realise their worth,
don't leave them unattended to perish in barren earth.

Summer
Fall softly on my sleeping dreams, like nymphs on a summer pond,
and let them grow from dormant seed to stem, to leaf, to frond.
And let them see the light of day, exquisite blooms, fresh grown,
that others may see beauty there and take them for their own.

Autumn
Fall softly on my sleeping dreams, like autumn's foggy shroud,
and if, for one brave moment, my blossoms were allowed
to lift their heads and permeate achievements heady scent,
I'll know the love and care I gave to them was time well spent.

Winter
Fall softly on my sleeping dreams, like moonlight on fresh snow,
for they were planted with loving care, many years ago.
And some were cut down in their prime by an unexpected frost,
yet others fell on stony ground, whilst some in drink were lost.

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