A daisy purple, as a king,
Its pride the very same.
It grows of silver diamond rings,
And the longest golden hair of string.
She’ll nor to bloom or wither,
As nesting their and hither,
Upon the fence, so lonely hence.
As pollen mists a tither.
Pick her for the heart, of blood that beats and gently sways.
And droops to fields of far away.
Growing in the moonlight light.
At night she hides in black,
The morn is torn.
The eve reborn.
Her beauty stands aback.
And when the spread of karmas thread,
Her beauty nor to lack.
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Author:
RSM (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 18th, 2026 05:04
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
Offline)
Comments1
Surreal and beautiful in imagery well penned
Ty for your kind words
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