The leaves have fallen,
the rose has withered,
and snowflakes bury it,
in a blanket of ice,
preserving life for the spring.

Teardrops on rose petals,
the past flies away,
on the cold winter wind,
and I learn,
to hope for the spring.

Out of nothing,
new life is born,
when I bring my soul,
to the heart of the light,
where rosebuds are born in the spring,
and petals unfold in the summer.