The Daisy

Dancing flowers plop at fullest bloom in the rustled yellow burnt fields. It sways an echo after the winds and hits the grass aside who sheilds. The dawn casts its tangerine color after the flattery feilds of Daisies, and a child runs the sunrays of early dawn to pick a daisy for her Aunt Stacey. With her white tipped finger she pricks herself with yellow honey substance and tickels it under her nose for scent. She runs out the fields to her aunt in instance. She looked at her and smiled, patted her head. Aunt Stacey spoke, "Honey go play for awhile and I'll meet you back in." And the little girl ran out the door. She put the daisy in a tiny vase where she admired it once more.