Every day as the golden sun shines,   
The warm aura of the sun bleeds through the window,   
A mix of comforting light,  
But sometimes almost too bright     
Laying on the sharp blades of grass,   
Almost like an emerald,   
Millions of needles poked my feet as I pass,   
injecting a potion of happiness with each step,   
Each crystal dew drop,   
Creating a dark stain spreading slowly through the stitches   
My loose shirt glued to my damp back,     
The bougainvillea slowly disappear,   
As the beige brick walls are stained a pink color,   
Smudged taffy designs are left as evidence   
Along with remains of the persian-rose thin flowers,   
Melting in our hands as we drag it to paint a design,   
On the colorless surfaces     
Almost like a fever dream,   
Sitting on a scarlet adirondack chair,   
watching the warm rays of sun that shone over the orchids,   
Hearing the delicate chirps of the hummingbirds,   
Flapping their light wings like angels,   
But beneath the wonderland lies a secret,     
The plants radiating in the glory of the majestic beams of sunlight   
surrounded by monarchs and red admirals   
Looking almost heavenly,   
Stealing all the glory,   
Standing tall and proud,   
In a halo of dewy mist,     
But days later,   
Gliding my fingers over the rough cream pages   
Of "Bridge to Terabithia"  accompanied by the chirps of the hooded oriole   
Stepping on the damp grass,   
I was jumpscared by the horrific sight,     
It was a disgustingly sorrowful moment,   
Dropping my book down to the ground,   
Peering at all the umber, crunchy and cooked flowers,   
Deep fried,   
Grilled,   
And seasoned with sadness,     
Staring down,   
Shocked,   
Confused,   
Almost feeling worthless,   
Letting down a group that trusted me,   
I started feeling a burning sensation cooking my back,     
Jerking away,   
the sunlight once shining over me was now  burning the deceased flowers,     
It all connected in my brain after that,     
Eyeing the plants again,   
the flourishing lavenders and lupines hidden under   
the shadows were completely fine,   
The "highlighted" poppies and phacelias catching everyone's eye quickly perished   
showed me how humans with too much attention will perish in the future,     
The ignorance I had to only focus on one group of flowers,   
led me to realize that everyone was identical,   
And deserved much more than what some other may be receiving   
Just like the hidden yet beautiful flowers     
I figured out the right way to see the world,   
seeing everyone the same,   
So as the sun keeps shining in the Spring breeze,   
the hibiscuses and lewisias grow into  luscious jade trees with splatters of amaranth,   
there will always be a meaning behind all of it