Springtime is delightful,
A time of renewal,
The promise of plenty to return
After the cool, shivery touch
Of Old Man Winter’s icy kisses.
New green, exuberantly sprouting,
Adorning the leafless trees:
Carpeting the barren fields,
Awakening the fancy
In a young man’s heart.
Daisy, an unassuming wildflower
Shyly revealing herdelicate face,
Is picked with gay abandon,
Twined, twisted into floral garlands
For a Queen’s maypole dancing.
Reclining in a flower strewn meadow
With an exciting new beau,
Making daisy-chain necklaces.
Under a warming spring sun,
Choosing a perfect miniscule bloom
To pluck clean for a foretelling.
A Lovers chant ….
An old melody - Daisy, Daisy,
Give me your answer do:
He loves me,
He loves me not,
He loves me,
He loves me not.
Twirling a spindly stem,
Round and round,
Singing the rhyme,
Plucking off petals
One-at-a-time ….
Until the final truth
Is baldly revealed.
I am heartbroken …
He loves me not.
Do daisies tell lies?
Janet Stoyel is a newly Practicing Wordsmith. After a long career in Textiles, Janet now focuses her attention upon Creative Writing. Janet writes for the pure appreciation and joy found in language: in letters: words, sentences. Janet is Dyslexic She chooses, organises, weaves, and constructs, her written vocabulary into her distinctive freeform language. Janet lives in a small Somerset Village in the UK. It is a sleepy, rural area of Wetlands noted for the growing of Willow and the making of baskets – a great place to write!
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