The edges are soft and the shadows gone,
Pure light capturing the essence of beauty,
Flaxen hair cascading down delicate shoulders,
Embracing unconfined glory.

Lily, chrysanthemum, rose,
Picket on the ivy hedged wall,
A scene with a spirit enclosed.

The cherry petals fall in spiraling whorls,
Dashed down with innocent laughter,
A book forgotten on a stone bench,
For a muse of a painter enthralled.

Lily, chrysanthemum, rose,
Guardians of the narrow gateway,
Neglecting their duties in the shade.

The laughter stops to the crack,
A gun in hand, a husband stands confused,
To shouts and cries of beauty swept away,
Of an artist and wife lost to misplaced jealousy.

Lily, chrysanthemum, rose,
Pall bearers walking in stoic silence,
The edges turned hard and shadows dark.