Love of Daisies
I recall the games once played
as children on the lawn,
when daises woke to greet the day
still damp from dew at dawn.
We'd gather them and split the stems
to thread them one by one,
then place a crown upon our heads
and dance in summer sun.
as children on the lawn,
when daises woke to greet the day
still damp from dew at dawn.
We'd gather them and split the stems
to thread them one by one,
then place a crown upon our heads
and dance in summer sun.
But daisies should be left in peace
to flourish where they grow,
for each one with its smilng face
has nowhere else to go.
And Eirwen loved each tiny bloom,
that some would call a weed.
To pull them out or cut them down,
she'd say there was no need.
to flourish where they grow,
for each one with its smilng face
has nowhere else to go.
And Eirwen loved each tiny bloom,
that some would call a weed.
To pull them out or cut them down,
she'd say there was no need.
There's space enough for them to stay,
their presence will not harm
and dressed up in their fresh white skirts
they have eternal charm.
I do not think I'll ever pick
a daisy from its bed,
for Eirwen's thoughts are planted now
and rooted in my head.
their presence will not harm
and dressed up in their fresh white skirts
they have eternal charm.
I do not think I'll ever pick
a daisy from its bed,
for Eirwen's thoughts are planted now
and rooted in my head.
by Christine Anne Shaw,
Art Miho Hirano
Art Miho Hirano
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