In dawn’s soft glow, the iris blooms,
A tapestry of dreams,
Where morning dew like crystal plumes,
Adorns each petal’s gentle seams.
Beneath the sun, they proudly stand,
With colors bold, yet soft and pure,
A regal crown in nature’s hand,
Their fragrance whispers, sweet allure.
As twilight falls, they fade to night,
Yet in the dark, their memory stays,
A fleeting glimpse of purest light,
In gardens where the iris sways.