Dear daisy,
She was once like you
Graced by such purity and innocence,
Happiness was her colour,
Laughters was the paint in her life,
before her childhood retired.
She misses the mere land she called home,
Where her childhood memories
buried along within.
She misses the old days,
When everything was fine,
No droplets of the broken,
No scarlet of the rage,
No frowning of the worries,
and no words from the liars.
She changes,
Her beautiful words cease,
Her sincere smile disappears,
As the innocent girl grow up,
things are never the same.
Dear daisy,
She knows a thing about you
Blooming is your nature,
Thus she hopes to be like you
She may wilt, for a while,
She will wait for another dawn
To bloom once again,
To purify her once innocent heart.
YOU ARE READING
Wildflowers
PoésieWildflowers; wild, yet still held the preciousness ___ To read is to aspire. To write is to inspire. So-called self-claimed poetry. Little confessions in understanding the world.
