A Song
Daisy [picosong.com]

A Sonnet
Upon hills grasses grow green bountifully,
While generous, what’s decorous are not
Blades sharp and thin yet petals plump and free
From neighbors who pollute your every thought.

A canvas that Asteria will fill,
With whites and yellows scattered scarcely sparse,
Is not much different from field’s grass until
The sunrise so stars but become a farce.

When I look down from branches, leaves, I see
The stars beneath me daylight, dusk, and dawn.
And during night I find myself; a tree,
Protecting, sheltering as night pass on.

My dearest Daisy, when I hear you say
Just anything you brighten my whole day.