the brightest blue eyes I have ever seen often hid behind wrinkled bags of skin they belonged to my darling Elva who loved flowers and family in her disease, she was always concerned about the well being of her garden sometimes, she cried out for her mother she was eighty seven
and although she is gone when I look up at the summer sky I can see the color of her irises and I know she is up there in her garden and I can imagine her mother is too