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An Iris

We wanted to plant an iris,

My dearest love and I,

We tilled the earth,

We made a bed,

We planted the seed,

We waited and waited,

We watered lovingly,

And sat there everyday,

In hope for the sprout,

But only dirt remained,

We called a botanist,

The upmost authority,

From the biggest greenhouse,

In the city,

Maybe even the county,

He took a look,

And broke the news,

Our ground was infertile,

Nothing could be done,

We will have no irises,

Not now,

And not ever,

Our neighbors have a whole row,

Purple, blue and yellow,

And orange and pink galore,

Yet they leave them to wilt,

And rot in the sun,

And my love and I,

We only asked for one.

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ROFLROFLSAM

im sorry ur infetile :(

This is just a poem about the concept. It's not about me or anyone in particular

oh ok good to know!