In windy steeply paths
As far as the Kilimanjaro heights
I poured down watery sights
At an iris amidst parted roses
I thought it should bloom out life
And yield fountain-like petals, like muses
Brother it withered in translucency
The sharp peaks of sun light
Darted mosaic rays its stems empty
Sucked dry by crickets of gluttony.
But at the passing of each dusk,
Arose a young heart of epiphany
Out with the ambitious Gardner
To find its stem a greener crest
It only bowed pale its tasteless nectar
While infant bees mocked at their best
Where again is my lost Iris?
It strayed away with the rest.
by ALPHA E.Y. 2016©