Shadow Flowers

I was a vivacious, aroma loving barista, laboring midnights in a coffee shop, Offering tasty drinks to fellow night owls, while others dreamed of lollipops. My work was so pleasant and suited me, for I was enamored of neon nights; And I had forever been this way, as sable beauty is seen in a different light. I was an eager connoisseur of coffee, and we offered so many rich varieties, Underneath the pink, hoot owl moon, like lush offerings under papaya trees. Friends and I were like night and day, and we had wild times when we could, As the two light up the town each day, just as hued sunset and dawn should. Fond family flew on faded purple skies to visit, with love and comical stories, Like bluebird sunshine tales to spring, as related to climbing morning glories. I loved all kinds of pretty flowers, but the shade blooms really enthralled me, For their disposition was very like my own, a sunshine, shade loving devotee! I lived in the house of random sparkle, where the creamy stars loomed near; While redbirds sang their lonesome songs, midst scented petals of cashmere. Blissful seasons were quite stunning, under the minty trees along my street, Of budding greens, flying colors and snow, and the colorful, summer repeat. Nectarine days brought numberless neighbors, as all flowers come from rain, And we'd sit at the edges of fragrant June, gossiping to red cardinal's refrain. Summer swept in on scented winds of suddenly, evoking songs in my heart, Like a yellow moon's echo of sunshine, creating its beauty thrills in the dark. Sapphire ocean held reflections of teal sky, soon to arise in mist, 'ere falling, Like the amorous looks of a youthful two, just when romance comes calling. On walks, I'd admire shade loving blooms, slow dancing in cool, silken dark, Like a shimmering, slow dance of moonlight, or late rainbow's hued remark. Lilies of valley and hydrangea enraptured me, in beds of my bleeding hearts, Along with begonias, foxgloves and pansies, with impatiens, eagerly in parks. I loved the deep red and purple of fuchsia, on pink Astilbe and Primrose Lane, Where birds sang to scarlet elephant ears, in a glow of gold-orange sun reign. Purple phlox and pale azaleas were lovely, and I hoped they'd forget-me-not, When I thrilled to burgundy anemones of sunset dusk, glowing in huge pots. Colorful life is comprised of mellow sun and shadows, both a rapture to know, And I learnt it's perfectly fine to be myself, like stark trees shivering in snow!