The withered cage
Of a flowering bush
In a bent posture
Fatigued of mortality

A mere portrayal
That remains
Of a spirited
Crimson past

A song that is now unsung
As a state of remembrance

And how delightful is it
To see a new leafy sprout
Young and sprightly
One that will flourish
To tell a new tale
For such has always been
The resolve of life