Spring it calls and winter thrulls.

Where would you go if you weren't needed,  the flowers call the rain -
But all the bones they rattle, in arthritic pain, may you go away with worry,  and find another place -
For spring it calls and winter thrulls 
The flowers show their face -
May you come by so often,  but little none the where - the flowers basking in the sun, could use some tender care.