Almost like a fantasy the flowers that sprung around,
Deeps colors of pink, orange, blue, each scented with hints of spring,
While they are blossoming winter fades in the mind,
These two seasons daughters of Father Time.
At odds spring and winter
Like siblings in a heated battle,
Fighting to rule the air,
As coldness doesn't want to leave.
We question when will it arrive,
No one knows as in the distance we smell it,
Chasing after each petal,
Longing for spring a symbol of renewal,
Rebirth, the time for new things,
But is it ever really happening?.....