Spring is coming,
and it tastes of sweet honey,
smells like lavender.
The trees are shaking off the winter cold,
stretching out their bare bones into the gift of soft warmth.
As the sun rises each morn,
it stays with us longer each day,
keeping us company, watching us play.
Soon the flowers will dance through the earth,
and sing their song to the sun.
Spring is the heaven after the death of winter,
and you are the angel that I love
