My rose filtered out the back door

breathing notes of honey on your old porch.

Changing times make dew, but I’ll be back for you.

All the little lilies hop around each spring

Never a distant valley they run around and sing

for the roses to come back

Photo: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/2f/f8/1f/2ff81fa3a01d8452eeb375bf68498bee.jpg