Soft blooms glisten as the snow begins to melt,
the sun the only thing that brings them back.
They have so much in common,
yet only one sees the light when the other is gone.
I stand here in the meadow,
looking off into the storm.
I wonder deep in hard in that pit that sees no morn.
One thing weighs on my hearts.
Shall we depart as brothers,
or traitors to our parts.