Messenger
Spring on the woods has befell
The sea of flowers blossoms as if by a spell
The old oaks have secrets to tell
As cold winds soft spring breeze will expel
On the open field iris grows tall
In mythology Iris with divine connects soul
She has rainbow under her control
And she is wonder to extol
Smell of the iris can make one feel
Beyond divine dream beyond surreal
In the essence of ideal
The secret and sacred universe it will reveal
Copyright © Patrycjusz Kopec | Year Posted 2013
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