Freya's Garden

Walking through her garden

Her eyes rest upon a flower

That is dull and leaden

With petals

Black as coals

Amidst all the white ones

 

She thinks nothing of it,

Admires it for a just few

More than she would admit

It caught her

In a blur.

She moves through the garden

 

She walks through just once more

And thinks that she is mistaken

More that there was before,

This flower

Black monster

Not a flower; a weed.

 

The squalid, foul beast chokes

The soil that feeds the Trillium,

The flower of her folks:

That foul weed

Needs to bleed

Needs to leave, needs to die

                        

She calls the uniformed man,

Who has a perfect solution

A purely flawless plan:

A poison �"

Destruction

Of the weeds not flowers

 

She walks through afterwards

And cannot help but smile wide

At the flowers she guards

So fair white

Greatly right

Live never plagued again