Daisies
In the democracy of daisies
Every blossom has one vote.
The question on the ballot is
Does he love me?
If the answer’s wrong I try another,
A little sorry about the petals
Piling up around my shoes.
Bees are loose in the fields
Where daisies wait and hope,
Dreaming of the kiss of a proboscis.
We can’t possibly understand
What makes us such fools.
I blame the June heat
And everything about him.
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