I saw her on that cold December night,
A touch of color on the virgin snow.
The winter rose had just begun to grow,
And suddenly I knew true love’s first sight.

Her scarlet petals shamed the ivory white
Of snowflakes dancing in the moonlit glow.
She’d sing of summer days she longed to know,
And talk with me until the morning light.

Yet she had bloomed too soon to have it said
That she would live to feel the summer’s bliss
Before the frost could spirit her above.

Come spring, I found my winter rose lay dead.
In trembling hands, I blessed her with a kiss,
And shed a farewell tear for my lost love.

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