A Garden Party
What a pity flowers can utter no sound
A singing rose, a whispering violet around
What a rare miracle would it be if unbound!
And the rarest when my Iris comes around
Not alone but rounded by irises with scent
Of her all pervading round the table laid
Can behold her all-enriched face decent
You are my genus Iris, sharp-shaped maid
Showy colored displaying the rainbow color
Your mesmerizing eyes, green and deepened
Deeper than the depth like those stilled waters
Those eyes felt at break of the day enlivened.
Iris, welcome to the party with heart full of love
Let me feel your gentleness of a dove.
+++++++
July 7, 2014
Form: Contemporary sonnet
Fifth Place win
Contest: Garden Party
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