Daisy's
Song
Taunting
her petals--plucked and forgot
with, 'He loves me...he loves me not,'
may pearls of wisdom be Daisy's lot.
Her
hair bundled up in a flowery knot,
Daisy taunts her petals, plucked and forgot,
as pearls of wisdom befall her sweet lot
in, 'He loves me...he loves me not.'
She fidgets and twists in the
looking-glass,
where her crinolines swish with the sparkle of sass
and dusts her nose with a pink little puff
to conceal that 'ole pollen and such other stuff.
Now proffered and preened to her lovely
nodes,
she dabs on Spring's mist neath her pearly lobes,
then lines up her sisters like maids in a row
who trail close behind wherever she goes.
Strumming his music on her glad heartstrings,
might beau be a-calling to fetch his sweet thing?
"Pray tell, fair maiden, what does your heart sing?
Might he ride like a king's son bearing a ring?"
**********
The petals forgot, now laden with dew,
around me I gather to count them anew.
"Do tell, my daisy, be I a new bride
or perchance an old maid who's fit to be tied?"
