From the peckish flow of pollen perusing in the air, that irrevocably makes my reoccurring allergies flame up, permitting my nose to looking like a cherry tomato.
From the awakening of blossoms omitting the sweet smelling fervor of my senses. From the warmth of the weather making my heart feel festive and splendid enlightening my dreams, my thoughts, and my aspirations molding me in to a blooming, arcadian blossom.
From the dandy breeze making my hair go in all sorts of directions.
From the waves of all these winsome works of nature renewing as a sign of “new life.”
From the carelessness of our being, because what comes out of a cold, tepid, bleak winter is none another than the effulgent, heavenly, lush aura within us.
  From the amicable walks and chats with open – minded acquaintances and the urgency to thrive in these unpredictable months coming.
From the change from hot, crisp coffee and lattes to the soothing, teeming tones of tea.
Spring is here,
Spring is awakened.
And so am I.

- m.d.

My soul whispered a secret to my heart,
It spoke of spilled blood upon a rose,
Rouged lips within the garden,
Drops of crimson liquid blush.

[CHORUS]
Nature’s beloved colour is green,
So red speaks of originality,
Blood is a passion,
Scarlet bleeding from thy own,
A claret sun dawning beyond,
Sanguine stained skies.

When the little cardinal sings sweetly,
A doorway opens I never chose,
Visions of a bloodshot key,
A lock rusted with dried blood.

A glimpse through the keyhole,
A pale forest awaits on the other side,
Showers of cherry blossoms,
Falling upon the snow.

Red berries bloom under crystal snow,
Glints of sunlight touch down,
Sparks of fire captured within,
Just beyond this rubicund door.

[CHORUS]

The dreams I am allowed,
Burn and scar my will,
When the door swings open,
Of its own accord.

Damask petals on the wind.
How warm and gentle that spray of blood,
Like a hundred tender kisses,
And the golden keys to Heaven.

I glimpsed the gules of true heraldry,
A suffused spirit at the dawn of memory,
Imprisoned by a cage of vermillion frost,
Warmed by a glass of spiced wine.

[CHORUS]

A roseate palace at the end of a long walk,
Painted titian by my tear drops,
Caress a florid complexion,
Carmine not my own.

Roan stones dusted,
By the fall of Angels light,
Make-believe incarnadine carpet of,
A mirrored auburn dusk.

I settle back into the maroon night,
The darkness flushed by concealed art,
Bay canvas touched-up with unreal imagery,
Indifferent to the passing of my former life.

[CHORUS]

Rubies fall from ruddy clouds,
These gems are not for me,
Reddened glass has come to pass,
The moment of my undoing.

[PAUSE (Epilogue)]

Red is not for me,
Red was not meant to be...

Winter is cold, with gusts of tumbling snow
When rain falls down and nothing ever grows
For children it's the snow that they desire
And cups of co-co in front of the fire

When winters gone, the grass grows green again
Roses and Tulips sprout, with bright green stems
The bees are buzzing, the birds are singing
Sheep are grazing and cow bells are ringing

And then the sun starts to shine too brightly
It's so hot that fans are put on nightly
And so then it's off to the beach or pools
Where people swim about just to keep cool

All the leaves on the trees turn golden-brown
And when on the ground make a crackly sound
In autumn a lot of money you make
For clearing backyards of leaves with a rake

Each season has its own goods and its bads
But since they are all different I am glad!