It was summer time
when I heard the clang of our
tiny chime, It was this time again
as my soul slowly dries up from
another pain.

I stood up, acting brave in the middle
of autumn not knowing the leaves were
falling and my soul is dying, turning from yellow to a plain withered brown.

Then, a voice with coldness embraced
along my body seemed so helpless.
He lifted up my chin and washed off
my scarlet sin, turning it as white as the winter snow.

With love and comfort, in his dwelling place
nurtured by his amazing grace, I woke up in the springfield full of ombre roses. I found hope as the season changes from gloomy ashes to some better bushes.