Thursday, June 10, 2010

The Secrets of the Daisy

I sit at the gathering place
Surrounded by the hush
Of the sun-drenched meadow,
Deflowering a daisy with
He loves me,
He loves me not.
Subtle is the sweet grass
Embracing my self.
Yet, in all its silken splendor
My heart wilts
In regret.
Oh, but to leave the fate
Of love
Within crumpled fragments
Of a daisy!
For if I know not,
The intentions of a man,
Surely, he is not worthy
Of plucking from her,
The blissful glory,
Which graces her center.
Who am I to take her crown,
Boasting magnificence,
Encircling a brilliant
Golden face?
Bowing only to the wind,
I shall leave the secrets
With her.
Never again to
Strip her pride
Petal by petal,
Just to know
If he loves me
Or not.

1 comment:

  1. My poetry is like my painting, an expression of myself, for myself and until this moment, kept to myself. Since I am "in the garden", I decided to daisy poem is from my heart and appropriate for this blog thread.

    In Peace,