To me, yea, Iris is invisible,
the scent of yours all pervading,
Behold your face all-rich,
When I close my eyes.
Wordsworth's daffodils to me,
Membrane of the eyes,
that gives light to me,
Light that misleads the morn.
You are the genus iris,
with sword-shaped leaves,
Showy colored flowers,
displaying rainbow colors
Your eyes green and deep,
Deeper than the depth,
Stilled waters at even,
those eyes, break of the day.
I see a heart full of love,
with the gentleness of a dove,
Feel in her eyes March,
September in her heart.
This is so prolific in the fact of it's romanticism. Thank you for your Art. It is what makes life worth living and puts a joy in our hearts where there may be sadness. Andreas
