We were Irises in previous life

Where petals play

The morning drapes its shawl of golden haze,

And petals wake to hum the tune of spring.

They tilt and twirl beneath the sun’s warm gaze,

Like dancers poised on air’s soft murmuring.

No sorrow stirs within their violet hue,

No storm resides in yellow’s quiet gleam.

They bloom as though the world begins anew,

Each curve and fold a piece of gentle dream.

The shapes behind—a patchwork calm and bright—

Show how the world finds grace in quiet lines.

When bloom and pattern softly reunite,

The heart leans in, and harmony aligns.

So let them bloom, these whispers in the breeze,

A lyric formed from lines and fleur-de-lys.