A Flower blooms
In winter’s chill
Though Darkness looms
It remains still.
Throughout the storms
Of snow and hail
The Flower forms
Its figure frail
Then springtime dawns
And on the ground
Flower is not gone
Though others abound
A young man sees
The flowers sway
With gentle breeze
He walks their way
And for his maiden
picks one out
Nature’s game played
Without a doubt
A Flower picked
For lovers’ will
A Flower born
In winter’s chill
C.P. Lewis