Water lilies lurking in an alluring pool of blue;
Beautiful butterflies and bees beckon you.
Desolate daffodil dapperly dare;
Swim above surface, steel sun shining there;
Who am I to wonder where the wild things grow?
Flitting, frolicking this face to show;
To mess the mirrored mirage of mire;
Fulfilling my selfish mortal desire.
I gently touch the exteriority;
Concentric circles echoed back at me.
Nature not knowing my naive intent;
More mournful than anything for it’s not what I’d meant.
Turned my head tearful and teetered away;
Perhaps I’ll pass by on a less perfect day;
When the lilies less alluring and the water less blue;
When the daffodils droop, yes that’s what I’ll do.
October 17, 2000
