walking past fountains of roses,
she caressed them with her hands.
soft petals kissed her fingers and
thorns, piercing the pads of her fingertips.

wandering to the golden pond, lying
down.
letting her hands play in the fronds of the grass,
flicking up glistening emeralds of water that
glimmered
in the sun.
flickering moons,
fresh diamonds,
new life so quickly taken.

roses
spurted as if from fountains atop messy beds
of lilies and lilacs,
jumbled together in a rush of colour that
seemed to have more and more detail
the more you gazed at it.

the sun shone
over the garden like liquid honey
melting over the peeling paint
of the white trellis that held
twining ivy
and heavily scented jasmine in its grasp.

and there, glazing the morning garden,
lay an aureate, flaxen
glow.

she sped down the hill;
the cool wind flying through her hair and dancing
on her creamy, golden skin.

speckled with freckles,
her smooth hands gripped the handle bars
of her bike.

the machine seemed to quiver
under her fingers and
despite
being a little old and rusty,
let her fly
on oiled springs
and rubber pedals.

She is like the colour of gold,
dipped from the sun's rays,
in everlasting bliss.

Flowers share their golden bloom
I know everything'll be okay
And they'll get rid of all my gloom

I sing songs inside of my tomb
"You have to stay in there," they say
Flowers share their golden bloom

I already know about my certain doom
The skies turn a brilliant gray
And they'll get rid of all my gloom

I can't sleep in this bedroom
I think thoughtfully about today
Flowers share their golden bloom

Soldiers share a final legume
Bombs fly in a beautiful array
And they'll get rid of all my gloom

Blood splatters, a red abloom
This would be further known as D-Day
Flowers share their golden bloom
And they'll get rid of all my gloom