We look up to you with naivety, our sweet chameleon chi.

Do these doe-eyes not know lies that let us down?
Sunshine rays in no way cure your lost emerald crown.

Drown your constant soil surround, cartesian tree.
Don't contradict and be conifer just to concur.

Your bounty does not bewray the blowing wind, to bereave our burr.

Sure, we both see the source leading us to loathe.
But, most enchanting is the season we stole to sell.

You wear it so well.
You know?