Spring's Sweet Reality
She wanders to a dream, a place
Where weeping willows brush her face
Beneath the branches bending low
She's walking where a garden grows
Grass gently sways, as cool as glass
And timid blows the warming breeze,
That fetches shining hair with ease
With wisps of gold, which fly astray,
Like meadow flowers, in yellow maize
A melody of larks, that sing
Of promised spring....of pastel things
An amber sun, a basking glow,
Who ambles by and whispers low
Of meadows green and rainbows too
How much she longs to bask again
To warm a face so pale of skin
But then, once more the threat of chill
Upon a cheek, a breath of ice
And snowflakes land upon on her lash
They startle cold, like morning ash,
A northern wind that stings her eyes
A thief will snatch her scarf away,
And thus her dream has gone astray
And once again her dream has died
Yet distantly, there lies in wait,
A springtime place, a promised fate
A path beneath the willow tree,
Where sun peeks through the velvet haze
Where flowers bloom and meadows grow,
And larks sing lovely lullabies
The earth will wake, to be a dream
A dream with sweet reality
____________________________________________________________
For Francine's Contest: "Winter Begone" 1/23/12
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