Smiling as she digs another hole for the next flower. The rows of perfection and colors matching in her mind, although sadly it's actually color blind.
Humming as a bird and smiling as a baby's first taste of candy, a pretty butterfly lands on her wrist.
Gently she holds it up and tells it "go on, this is our little nest."
It doesn't move, and anger evolves. As a strong wind, she PUFFS, as it zooms elsewhere.
Then the smile comes to her face. Nothing can steal our colorful garden!
What harm could the beauty bring to a colorless garden?