There was a scent of roses on the wind,
Though it was the middle of February,
And snow was still on the ground,
The skies still a dusky grey.
But there was a scent of roses
In the wind that whistled through the empty, barren trees
And sent snow flurries dancing through the air.
Though it was the middle of February,
And snow was still on the ground,
The skies still a dusky grey.
But there was a scent of roses
In the wind that whistled through the empty, barren trees
And sent snow flurries dancing through the air.
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