Daisy

The beautiful thing about this flower is when it blooms
It stands so tall and unsure of the world
But willing to reveal it’s self
Until one day, it gets trampled on by a foolish boy
Or picked by a love stricken girl
Repeating the lines
“He loves me, he loves me not”
Over and over again
Deflowered and thrown away since it lack no beauty
Until spring rolls around next year
And the feelings are the same rooted deep beneath the soil