Souvenirs in Winter

for my son Stevie

My son brought me a bag of rosebuds of which to make tea
And when the water meets them then they bloom
A Valentine's present profoundly inspiring to me
When they spread rosebud-fragrance through the room

Like the ancient breath of angels preserved
As treasure reverentially reserved
For only the highest and holiest days
I will not make tea of them after all

Instead I will cherish them sacred always
My souvenirs in winter of the fall

+Steven Curtis Lance



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