who knows a pink rose...

Who knows a pink rose that blossoms in May? Sparrows from hollows who go their own way She drove to sea coves to swim in the waves Deep dove through his soul to plumb, come what may. Cock crows as sun grows to bring forth the day Arrows from curved bows fly straight as a ray Time slows like Kairos when work is just play High prose from us folks who plough fields of hay. Tongue froze but truth flows when words cannot say Eyes old stories hold, 'cause what's in a name Life's gold if untold, ain't that a damn shame. Who knows a pink rose that blossoms in May? I knew that rose too, before she turned grey.