Spring is come and spring is going
and no word from my love is flowing
down the page of purest white
with ink so black as darkest night

winter thaw has finished now
and spring took over with the bough
all dressed in coloured petals all
fit for the hall of a wedding ball

so give me sign that you are there
where the brook is purling fair
in that very secret place
I want to stroke your sensitive face

so well I do remember then
when we sat and watched the wren
sing his song so piercing loud
like a cheering teenage crowd

as we sunk together down
on the grasses golden brown
found each others tender dream
as flowers floated on the stream

ah would that that time come again
so now could be and not a then
the wren he sings but no one's there
except my thoughts as ever ware

time passes like a drifting shawl
across the sky and we enthral
like memories that light our sky
of lying there just you and I

Margaret Ann Waddicor 25th April 2012.