The Private Eye at the
Birmingham Botanical Gardens
Blended colors like a butterfly’s wing
Velvety soft, painted splatters cling.
Where were you going when you were found?
Did you fall or float through the air with no sound?
The bright, brilliant orange color seemed to shout
Look at me quickly for my time is soon out.
The spreading brown bruises, the dark shadows gain. The flower’s last petal has sung its refrain. — V. Leak