Sunday, April 15, 2012
When the cold, dreary, gray skies start to clear
Like the soft touch of your hand wiping away my tears
along comes the sun and soon the sky clears.
What is left is a beautiful sight to behold.
Roses and flowers adorned in pink, red and gold.
And again, like the soft touch of your kiss on my skin
The sun warms my heart and tells spring to begin.