The luring incense
And the delicious aroma releasing fragrance
Of the Marigold
Spreads a delicately divine immortality
Through all its vivid and dense orange, red and yellow bright colors
Reflecting the sun and the light
Fully warm, joyful, and happy
In a sphere of fresh and all summer-y, edible melon-like
Aura
And the saffron like sweet and tasty threads bring in a golden hue
of The Muse
With its charming and “rousing the dead” use
On the Dia de los muertos

Todos somos calaveras
Traveling through the circle of life
The noise-making shells and bells
On the single candle burning canoes
Passing under all orange and purple papel picados
Eating slices of the luscious bone-shaped and anise and orange smelling pan de muertos

Silently slanting my orange and red marigold throned head
I weep under the sugar skull painted mask hiding my face
Deprived of the pride that you were once mine
Shadowing the ******* mortal belligerent jealousy
I grieve that you now wed yourself to Catrina
In despair, I mourn like the seasonal and fragile marigold
That has lost all its enticing
Pleasure and attraction
No longer able to fascinate your soul
Nor, ****** or induce  
The withering Marigold,
The Muse mourning
That once coaxed you out of death