Daffodil

This poem serves as a reminder to not be swayed solely by outward beauty or charm, but to seek depth and authenticity in relationships and interactions...and it's also about my sister.

In the garden of faces, she blooms,
a daffodil amidst roses,
petals unfurling in the morning sun,
a delicate facade, a painted masterpiece.

Her smile, a symphony of deceit,
a dance of light on polished surface,
beckoning bees to her nectared lips,
while beneath, thorns lie in wait.

Each word she utters, a whispered breeze,
fragrant with falsehoods and pretense,
while her eyes mirror the azure sky,
reflecting only the clouds she wishes to show.

She is a masterpiece of illusion,
crafted with care, each detail honed,
but beneath the surface, her roots run shallow,
her beauty a fleeting mirage.

So admire her from afar,
but do not be deceived by her charm,
for she is but a daffodil,
bright and lovely, but shallow at heart.