Little Daisies

I dreamt of little daisies that yestereve I’d spied, All bathed in paling sunlight, dewy and honey-eyed. A silken soft reflection of the dawning moon they wore As stars their silent love into their hearts did bore. And as I leaned towards one to breathe its beauty in, I heard a silent whisper from somewhere deep within. A deep enchanting treasure, a picture of seven hues, When the withering rays formed a spectrum With a drop of water blue. As the last of violet vanished And the petals bent down to sleep As the moon took over the night sky and smiled At the little daisies, in their slumber so deep With such reflection of happiness, I awoke to the orange sky And searched for that vanished beauty that with My vision’s passing, itself had slowly died.