Last year is gone... we sit here alone... wondering...
If all the times we've met and things of life’s being...
Of Christmases’ gone and spring comes along each year
It brings to us the beauty in the meadows... of flowers with cheer.

We’d play, he loves me... loves me not... as we’d sit there...
Then run through the meadow-flowers... wind mussing our hair.
Watching butterflies flitting here and there tasting
Lots of nectar, of the flowers, then, quickly… hastening.

For it was spring... a time of joy and wonder displayed...
Along the hillside of buttercups so gallantly arrayed.
Queen Anne’s lace… in the background... as to shield...
A little… bunny rabbit; protecting, it from being killed.

The year is gone... never to be anymore in our life...
Grace will come again... flowing in with love to fight strife.
Wild berries strewn along the hillside... ripening in the sun...
Seems to  beacon with the sweet smell and taste of one.

A little creek right down below the little stand of wood...
Just waiting there... for passers-by to check if they could 
Catch a fishes’ tail and bring it up... to see it flounce about...
Things like these... are what life gives us... with joy to shout about....