Daisy yellow, daisy white
Blooming in the sun’s bright light
They were all that filled her sight.
Spring came like never before
And she plucked every petal that she sought
Does he love her, does he not?
She knew that he ought
In the spring of sixty-four.
Climbing toward the sun
Daisies were so much fun
Plucking petals was like drawing a gun
Playing this roulette made her heart sore
Could he love her?
Or was she a bother
All she knew was she wanted more
In the summer of sixty-four.
Fall came and the daisies fell
Long forgotten was their smell
Now she could never tell
Her heart he tore
Could he?
Would he?
Every see her as lovely?
In the fall of sixty-four.
Winter came and the daisies were rotten
Picking those flowers was long forgotten
Love she hadn’t sought in
His heart which was for
Her to keep,
But her courage didn’t take that leap
The love to have was too big a feat
In the winter of sixty-four.
So never guess twice when it comes to love
For the power of
The heart is like a dove
Immensely fragile but always wanting more
Thousands of sun sets
And hundreds of stars will never get
A growing heart to have met
This kind of love in sixty-four.
YOU ARE READING
To Write On My Heart
PoesiaA mirror to her soul. Look into her eyes for there is the key. Her heart is locked and I you won't ever know who she really is. The soul is the reason you take a chance on her because to know who she really is, is magic. So look into her eyes, and g...