Spring still lies buried in the memory of ice,
The flowers of the season are curled in slumber,
Warmer days seem so distant and fragile,
In her sad heart the seeds of Spring slowly germinate.

The tides of Christmas brought a new song on the air,
The life of freedom was kissed and warmly blessed,
They called her the Mother of the eternal Saviour,
Her pure blood gave colour to the petals of her red rose.

The years hailed sharp and fast and the Lord of wisdom matured,
The soldiers sharpened their infernal spears and spikes,
The sands of time spat hot thorns through men’s minds,
She hugged her Son and crowned him with merciful sleep.

He caressed away the tears from eyes sad before their time,
They came in search of the Healer who washed away fear and pain,
He kissed his Mother’s palms and the scent of the rose was there,
She wrapped his aching pain in her tears and whispered peace in his ears.