The Daisy

On my way to catch the bus to work
Stood a patch of daisies from brittle dirt.
One stood out, seemed so pure,
Yet with a wildish, weedlike allure.

In that patch all the others died;
I couldn't leave her if I tried.
I picked her up to set her free,
Explore a little, and walk with me.

I counted her petals and she said I was loved,
Said those petals white as a dove.
Took a picture to capture our time,
Something to keep forever entwined.



I left her there to safely spend the day
Among a gabble of purplish nightshade,
Promised that I would return,
And that I would remember her.

But in the end I did forget
And away my lovely flower was swept,
In the night when the wind blew;
Where she was taken, I never knew.

In the morn when I went to find
That telling flower left behind,
All that was left was an empty space,
But I was left with her grace.