Daisy

Daisy. there she lay planted beneath the soft, brittle earth I remember picking you no roses or tulips just Daisy. I was the gardener— your gardener what now shall I water I cry in hopes my tears will make you sprout come out of your flowerbed white and pure yellow and cheery green and new I knew you were wilting I saw you lose your petals your eyes lost their vibrant glow small and feeble easily carried by the wind you died within my gloves now you are back where you began the dark, eerie ground but this time Daisy. you won’t grow