The sun is warm against my skin, I watch from my window as the roses blossom. Water I feed my friends that grow from soil, Lushly green and beautiful. Air fresh and warm, Carrying the soft scents of spring. Right is the time when I serve my tea, Sweetened with honey and a bit of sugar. The trees have woken from their slumber, Leaves growing in long twigs. I lift the cup to my lips, Scents of mint and lime, enter my nostrils. The sweetness of honey caresses my tongue, As the soothing liquid warms my throat. I contemplate the transition, The days are longer and flowers are blooming. The need to stand among my vibrant soil friends urges me, Warmer is outside and my hands reach for the petals of roses. A fluttering feeling settles in my chest, Inspiration comes from the beauty of a warm spring day. Standing in the center of the modest garden, For the longest moment I do not feel oppressed. There is a new feeling for a new beginning, Where life is not misery, If you focus on flowers instead of the dregs.
