Image courtesy of Terry Wild Stock from Google Images
Blue Irises, tall and proud, stand guard at the gate.
They gently tempt the young child.
She cocks her head and listens with her heart.
She hears them whisper, “Come near my dear…
Let our beauty entrance you…
Let our fragrance intoxicate you.”
At the tender age of 6 she could not be
expected to resist this siren call.
She approaches the picket fence and slowly reaches out her hand
To pull the precious flower close to her…
The reverie was short lived.
The sound of the screen door hitting it's frame
reverberated through the air
as the blue haired lady with the humped back
shot off her front porch.
With broom in hand, she shouts threats and obscenities
that no child should be privy to.
Confused as to what her crime was,
The child had no choice but to run.
And so she fled, teardrops scorching her soul.
The blue irises hung their heads in shame.
I am participating in Ms. Jenny's Rainbow Summer School, where we study the colors of the rainbow. This week's essay deals with a childhood memory regarding the color blue, our color of the week.