Lyrics

It is winter now And the roses are blooming again Their petals bright against the snow My father died last April My sisters no longer write Except at the turning of the year Content with their fine houses and their grandchildren Beast and I potter in the gardens And walk slowly on the forest paths He is graying around the muzzle And I have silver combs to match my hair I have no regrets. None Though -- sometimes I do wonder Sounds of children ... Running across the marble halls Swinging from the branches of the roses In the snow