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Her daisy-do; a twirling stem says love.
White petals-aye, the plucking slow and sweet.
Initially removes her satin glove.
Begins to sow her fate; each wistful retreat.
Her blonde, blue eyes on him.
She parted blades of grass, beheld her choice.
He’s high, out on a limb.
Love’s in the air; gown’d meadow he’ll savor.
Her fella, in rejoice,
As the flower speaks grace - in his favor.

Wistful retreat of bountiful petals.
She sheds glory of them, mindful of quest.
Sensuous tinge as zephyr warms her soul.
His eyes, they dance, on golden pond, to rest
   On mirror’d reflection.
Tutu of swan, the spin of daisy-do.
   He sees her perfection.
Like a panther, his feet, they land close by.
   “It’s true - I do love you.”
“Now you’ve dropped out of time to tell me why.”

He sits ‘longside, he smiles and plucks a stem,
“Well, we will see…she loves me or daisy-nope…”
He grins, quickly dispelling truth, a gem.
Strong-spins, it is my turn - for you I hope.
   Daisy turns crimson-red.
He takes control, he flips the scales, a kiss
   he blows to garden bed.
He takes a chance with a daisy bouquet.
“Darling, we’ll reminisce
It all points to true love, this fruitful spray.”

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