Afraid to lose what
I’ve been hoping for.
My face, it wears the
seasons that I bear.
Can you forget the feeling
of the sun?
Again, I’ve feared to
let my heart’s hope bud.
Again, I pray, please God
don’t take this away.
A frosted branch
puts forth a tiny bud.
Its leaves have never
grown to see the sun.
It wanes as Winter
lasts another year.
My garden’s never grown
a rose before.
the fragrance writer 
I know, it happens to me on one or two Poets’ blogs here on WP.
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Hopefully
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Oh, WordPress!
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ag I’m getting tired of WP
the anonymous comment comes from me.
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i believe one can have an adequate measure of Spring in the winter of our lives
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