Delicate pink stains streak the blooms’ petal tips;
All of the flowers have tipped their curious noses to the sky.
I lounge amongst them, my own bed of fresh young grass -
Simple blossom, tied to blossom, to blossom, to craft a crown.
Yellow mirrors smile back to the sun from whom they stole their light;
Charming thieves with gentle floral hearts!
How daintily you dance, and so prettily you sway
As I brush my fingertips over the pure skirts of white.
I rest my laurelled head,
Night’s peaceful hush befalls the flowered court.
Sweet dreams in my garden of angelic company.