Her eyes released, left petrified
In hopes of a marigold paradise
Flowers fill eyes with words to spell
Broken words too soon befell
Fragrance to cover foreseen cries
Veils roll over cautionary lies
Iris fills a sunny flower hue
Blind as gold mirroring false in her truth
Why not grow a garden
With sun burns for food
What use is seeing
What’s left for believing
It’s time for feeling
When? After they bloom
Where? I wouldn’t know until it grew.
Why? They look sweet, but how do they taste?