(written for my wife) <br /> <br />S pring always comes, however slow it seems, <br />A nd on the trees at last from sleeping wood <br />N ew growth sprouts green where black twigs starkly stood. <br />D istant the winter now; like far-off dreams <br />R ecalling snow, white blossom-petals fall <br />A nd throw confetti down on warming earth. <br /> <br />H ere after months of sleep the signs of birth <br />A s daffodils thrust up and songbirds call. <br />N ow the breeze blows more gently on fresh grass, <br />S un gives its blessing, sky's a softer blue. <br />F rom greener woods then pipes the bold cuckoo. <br />O ur thoughts move on to summer. Spring will pass, <br />R ipe summer turn to fall, and winter, then, <br />D epend upon it, spring will come again.<br /><br />Paul Hansford<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/spring-sonnet-acrostic/
