You came to me as gentle breaths of spring

Reviving a dead soul from winter’s grip,

With all the pride and passion promise brings…

Sun-brightened smile, soft touch and song-sweet lips;

My memories of frost yet all too near,

Not knowing what to make of your warm light,

To feel sap flow again wrested glad tears

That melted all the chains of gelid blight.

Hope is a flower, delicate and pure

That reaches forth to hail from sullen earth,

Where beauty’s power, with gentle strength assured,

Providence may rise from cruel dearth.

True beauty is a balm that allays pain—

I look on you and all my woe does wane.