by Sharon Ramos 

Thou rarely acquires the chance to see a garth of flowers

And not just one of only one kind 

Yet of multiple kinds, betwixt amongst each other

A sea of solferino and gold 

Across the field of my brain

Although there are only three 

Thou denote something to thee.

 

The foremost is a sunflower, so gay and painted in meline.

Thou are stupefyingly amorevolous with their rings of fire.

And come as a sanative to the healing heart of thy brain.

 

The successor is a foxglove, often seen as duplicitous but somehow therapeutic.

Thou has plagued me with thy spell whereas yet it fills me such dynamism, thou cannot withstand it.

Such pride but ingenuity and aim.

 

The final of thy garth is a daffodil, such a peculiar floret. Miniature and swathed with flaxen. Thou are the most contemporary yet periodic: Nevertheless, thy stand dearest with thee. Thou do not wilt when the seasons alter instead: thou alter alongside it. Thou change into puffs of white that blow thee away.

 

The garth across my brain is not a garth I visit often, but as the seasons arrive and depart, the florets keep here across the fields of thy head.