Iris
Oh Gardener.
You began as a sweet gentle care-taker.
Careful of your words of inspiration
Motivation and fondness
Always aware of your daily actions
To remove weeds of discouragement
Abandonment and com-placement
Nurturing my roots, leaves, and vibrant petals
In verbal and mental capacities
Pleasure in sunlight shared
Both of us
You sensed passion from my natural scent
That was not meant for you
Wanting for self
Uprooted
Moved my precious being into natures streaming cold rains
For more enjoyment
Misunderstood visual pleasures
Spontaneous actions severed
Poisoned
Words of gentle gardener, once of praise
Now turn into a daze
of regret
Unsure of your present actions and words,
Now lead to change
I can no longer grow for you
My smell of sweet still
Burns your senses
Radiant petals now dry in knowledge
Father nature rescues my bulb
From your intentional pain
Your gardening days were never pure
Your ways, deceitful
To grow,
I will continue
Flower form to this remember
Dry my stem and always consider
that warm day
In December
When we connected
I will always be
An Iris
Copyright ©2006 ERIKA HUDSON
Iris
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