Have you ever loved a flower,
On a young spring day?
Its petals are ever radiant,
Raised to the sun.
A young maiden's blush
Hidden behind lace.
Their eyes dance along a clear river,
The sweetest of scents lingering,
As they blossom near bubbling brooks
At the dawn of a morning
To disappear by the first ray of light.

Have you ever loved a flower,
On Midsummer's Eve?
A birth of raucous laughter,
Its glorious spread of petals ever fair
With the fires of heavens.
The royalty of purple.
The gaiety of blues.
Spinning around in their silks of violets
And maroons.
Their scent, ever strong, fills the air with music.
They bend their necks invitingly,
Gone as the midday sun loses height.

Have you ever loved a flower,
On the curtain of fall?
Bathed with the richness of the sun's blessing
Of orange like flames to burn out the stars
Or yellow in comfort at home or afar
The timid steps
And small shivers.
The gentle caresses
And pleasant whispers.
The faint hope of home lingers
And then fades away as the sun lowers beyond the horizon.

Have you ever loved a flower,
On the deepest of winters?
To see its beauty stretched
Beyond the harsh snow,
Enveloped in the warmth
Of its loving reds.
To settle in front of a fire
With the smell of wood and smoke.
Its leaves of an earthy green around you
As a cloak.
It surrounds you with the comfort of a home,
A bittersweet and eternal embrace.
The sun hides forever behind the mountains of grey,
But the flower is always and forever
Here to stay.