O Iris, glittering apple of my eye!
You dainty silver imp, just like an elf
You magic’lly appear upon a shelf
So arcane and so acrobatic’lly high,
Then, like a snow leopard, you nimbly fly
Say eight feet down or so upon my bed
To land right on the pillow near my head,
My will-o-the-wisp, my elusive butterfly!!
You flutt’ring flower-petal, by the breeze
Of your own inspiration you’re impelled
To flit across the world with dazzling ease,
As free as alabaster clouds that scull
Across the firmament, never excelled!
Written Feb 12, 2009 © Anissa Nedzel Gage, All rights reserved