Stinking Iris

ImageStrolling down a woodland path

A skinny twig traced our track in the dust.

Surrounded by Forget-Me-Nots, Primroses

            and Hawthorn bushes.

A Scarlet Pimpernel fluttered round our heads while

Birdsong mingled with Grandad’s chatter.

 

We stepped around a puddle of yesterday’s rain.

The trees dispersed, giving way to the sun.

I looked up and saw you, alone

amid the primroses

Basked in your very own sunbeam

 

What’s this then?” Grandad tested me

I was only eight but I knew the drill

Hand in his pocket, out came our book

            of ‘Wild Flowers

Purple petals, sword like leaves

Page two two one, Iris.

Wrong colour” said me, “read on” said he

I chuckled at your name,

It’s only stinky when under attack

 

I wanted to pluck you, to take you home

No, remember the golden rule

I stored the memory and left you be,

Embraced your difference.

Alone but not lonely,

Tall and proud.

 

Years have passed and much has changed

I have never returned there,

            There was never a need.

As you were, you will always be.

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