4 of 200

by Margaretha P. Wiebe

She came softly,
My friend Spring.
She saw me, cold and alone.
She could not stand to see me cry.

One bright morning
I woke to find her,
Tapping on my window.
"Come" She said. "Be Happy"

I rose from my bed,
To great my friend Spring.
When I saw what she had done,
A smile fell on my face.

Spring had changed everything.
The tree that stood outside my window
Once gloomy and dark, now was budding,
And the grass was greener than ever before.

My friend Spring,
She has come to stay.
At least for a while,
There'll be no more sadness.

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Poetry: Spring

by Margaretha P. Wiebe

Poetry: Spring

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