by Tex Norwood

In winter’s grasp, the plumeria sleeps,
Its vibrant hues in memory’s keeps.
Bare of bloom, under frost’s soft lace,
In silent poise, it holds its grace.

Gone the flowers, sweet scent in air,
Now dormant dreams in cold’s fair care.
Roots in earth, in quiet lie,
Beneath the gray, unyielding sky.

Yet in this rest, a promise deep,
Of spring’s return, from winter’s sleep.
Where blooms will rise in colors bright,
Underneath the warm sunlight.

So wait, dear heart, through chill and gloom,
For plumeria’s burst, in vernal bloom.