FLORAL IN NATURE

Sweet Dianthus

To lose someone

Photo by Author

Flora of the gods, you are Dianthus.
Fauna gaze at your leaf — entranced by pink.
Dianthus loved by all including stink.
Flesh and blood in color without muss.

You are Sweet William, my dear Dianthus.
You are a multitude when on ink.
There are clusters of you that need deep drink;
Thirsty for lifeblood making a huge fuss.

Dianthus as religion takes and wants.
My mother saw the pink before she passed.
If I knew more answers and many chants,
There would not be great pain amassed.
My stomach is sour; I’m not nonchalant.
Cursed Dianthus, beauty that is trashed.