Tiny, frail, delicate snowdrops have suddenly appeared
In our storm-battered garden of darkness.
Defying sharp winds, and risen from the frozen ground,
In snowy whiteness, they banish winter's deep gloom.
They are symbols of hope for the human spirit,
Proof of healing and renewal of energy.
As the days go by, they will blossom and grow,
Evoking thoughts of survival and eternity.
Over the years my snowdrops have sustained me,
Renewing my joy in just being alive.
As I read in my newspapers of disasters worldwide,
I know in my heart there is still hope for mankind.
When I finally die and can no longer greet the spring,
Please plant some snowdrops in loving memory on my grave.
Then, Anna, come visit me there, when Christmas is past,
And be reassured of our resilience when threatened.
If you are still determined to keep your tryst on Everest,
And you find yourself fearful in icy gales or avalanches,
Think of those snowdrops and the adventurous spirits before you,
And grow then in strength, gaining the will to survive.
Let your journey be not an end but a new beginning.
When you descend, gaze afresh on our wonderful earth,
And delight in the miracle of Spring's first snowdrops
That speak of survival and continuity of life.