Iris in his Eye, a colorful scheme,
The hazel burst out into a rainbow-filled dream;
The message was clear, and the beauty posthaste,
Zeus's hands sculpted, and reality graced.
But through the meadow of flowers, he did reveal,
The melancholy graves that the flamboyant wished to conceal;
If angels had been here to collect a feminine soul,
They were routed to the floret goal.
The dual-nature of such enchantment,
The Evil and Good enhancement;
Bring the birds! They are our sisters!
Swept away, forgotten, and are now barely whispers.
But walking through time, eyeing modern art sensations,
An ageless man even outlives the gods' creations;
Iris in his Eye, certainly, she will be missed,
Iris in his heart, because she can never exist.
