I’m rolling
in a poetry field,
Where so many daisies abound,
A soft breeze bringing their mist.
I’m smelling them,
Satisfied with watching their
White, yellow appearance,
So I don’t need to write a poem.
Then your name is echoed
Amongst the petals,
Spreading this wonderful sound
All around the waving daisies.
It’s enough to hear
The most beautiful name I’ve ever known.
We smile to each other,
Me and the daisies.
