Daisy
By: Sarah A. Perlitz
As the autumn wind shifts through the trees,
I long to stroll beside the bay;
Flutter and dance they in the breeze,
Much I yearn for the month of May.
For in this month, it brings sweet sorrow,
‘Tis cycle of old, of all endurance.
A timeless glance until the morrow,
‘Till next season, when, with reassurance
Come hither, again, in vague resurrection,
With water flowing, the undying power,
Sprinkles on thy lips, in complete satisfaction,
To dispense on a never-ending hour.
For often when chores do get hazy,
I’ll disappear to my field of daisy.