If heaven could exist in flowers,
as a floral space for souls to alight,
golden angels would rise as daffodils,
haloed in garland of purest white.

Blossoms would form endless rivers of color,
spreading forever, embraced by the sun,
wreathing the world in a colorful brilliance,
an ongoing floral essence, never undone.

The petals would carry reminders,
in pastels there would be subtle clues,
perfumed messages sent by the weightless,
captured forever in a myriad of hues.

Heaven would float in the air as bright colors,
dance in the wind like a passionate flame,
where quiet hearts beat only as echoes,
countless flowers would always remain.