The Strong Purple Iris

 

The Strong Purple Iris

 

A purple iris flower was blooming in a field.

Protecting itself from the rain, the wind,

trying to create a perfect shield.

The soft, and tender petals couldn’t withstand.

The force of nature, a storm with dark clouds

that just waited to grow and expand.

What the storm didn’t know,

was that the iris was too strong.

That nothing could break it, it would continue to grow.

Its’ roots deeply burrowed in the ground,

there isn’t anything that could ever pull them out.

Not the slightest bit of wind, nor sleet,

not even the lightning or the thunder sound.

Where did such a tiny purple iris get its’ strength.

That not even an earthquake could destroy the flower at any length.

Was it the sunlight, perhaps the moist soil.

Or the fresh rainwater, that didn’t let the iris spoil.

No, it was the hand that planted the seed.

It was of a young person. He stood firm on ground with his two feet.

 
Where to look, there was no way but up. With his greatest intent, and wish was to be good-humored, caring, sweet and kind. An Iris, where one would he find. Set a distance apart. The one he would look upon and admire. It’s you. So perplexing, exuberant of its own kind. don’t know what to anticipate. Your lips move, but they don’t speak, there seems that there are showers of secrets that you keep. A kiss, within letter they address. To whom, they just don’t know where to send. With lyrics, your page overflows. What you write about, no one could figure out. In touch of love, you longed to uphold. To enfold.


Love though, so willingly declines. It comes out of depth, he looks abruptly upon your face. With sort of objection, distaste. Dismisses you. You endure nothing else farther than that. No love prevails that long enough. Utter-mostly to a bitter end.


I write; There's so much I want to say, but I’m afraid there’s not enough of pages for words to fill. Only spill out cries that couldn’t even sound. He comes to show, to tell I love you in my ear. So much that he invented, falsified. No greater exchange for such a counterfeit. To entrust in, to feel. I drown in my sorrowful tear. Overflows all that in puddle. Disdain. He breaks up midsentence, I not only one. 

 
Splits it, I can’t linger from there on. There so much left unsaid. Unheard yet. That when I try to love again, it ceases to an end. I might have enticed myself way into deep, just to feel inflict. 


As he comes around, something else catches his lurking eye; Brunette. Cascading falls of tress. Bloom of her dress, approves. Everything in space seems to get ahead. Within her depart, she surpass. She takes your breath away, in a quick-sighted farewell. Her outworn makeup seem to fit. Even undoubtedly match-made.

 
True, with one quick look, you’re hypnotized, mesmerized.

She looks away, secretly in a curve of an eyelash.

In an instant of a wink, love comes to pay a price.

At what cost, when this one's just given away as a prize.


Within her concealed, desirous, petal’s lush,

she could make her rosy cheeks blush.

So seductive to what meets the eye.

That unceasing flame flickers on by.

She burglarized your house, ran off with that.

Deceives, deludes, plays a trick on the mind.

She twists dice of love, turns to face.

Its pronounced kind of love, one he’s met.

Still perplexed by it.


I cannot hear a love, that fell deaf to my ear. To its own beat.

That when a door opened, he so shut me out, away.

I can’t hear myself speak, at the least bit.

But when I come out to speak, out of a wreck, 

I out-measure all that. I sing.

Wondering if there’s another way, to love.