Yellow Daisies
R RoseAnn V. Shawiak
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A squeeze-it bottle full of yellow daisies left upon a picnic
table, empty and full of crumbs.
When the family had been there to eat and share their lives,
the daisies had some meaning.
Now with no one around, they seem lost and forsaken, with no
need or reason to be here.
Like a happy memory placed just beyond reach, the squeeze-it
bottle full of daisies sits in the shade on a picnic table
in the afternoon breeze.
Having picked and saved it from ever achieving to pass into
oblivion, because I have written about it for anyone to see
who reads this poem.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş