Words can be the most beautiful thing.
Their use, can make a heart sing,
But they can also cause, much pain
And a hurt, that will always remain.
Using words, should be about truth,
Not full of disdain, lying or uncouth.
Words, used in a sonnet, professing love
Is usually the best way, far and above,
Those utterances of hate and disdain,
When one hears a lie after lie refrain.
The changing of seasons, across Worlds wide
Describing the colors of Sunsets to remember,
Or the harshness of the month, December.
Only words can describe how we feel
Or what in life, is falsely surreal.
Words describe the beauty, that we see
And the feelings of love, that I have for thee.
Spring begins that time of the year
When bulbs and perennials, begin to appear.
The first was an Iris, so very small,
Followed by tiny Daffodils, more tall.
Then came tall Daffodils, Hyacinths too,
With the scent that can over power you.
Waiting now for the Tulips to bloom
Pulling up colors to brighten the gloom,
As we recover from Winter, so readily
One of the worst, we ever did see.
Welcome back to the bursting of Spring;
Welcome back all birds, that sing.