I'm a yellow daisy
born in a freedom field
grown wild in wind
that collided from the forest and sky.
Daisies have no fear
of giving too much light
as long as you don't take their roots
My soft rubber stems
grew roots deep in the hill
by the garden
yet my blossom grew so high,
it couldn't feel its roots.
I longed for fingers
to step on my soft stems.
Needing my present flower picked
so I could go back to my roots
and grow a new flower.
I begge a bully
who picked me
and stuck me in a vase with vexed roses
full of chemically treated water
to minimize the minerals.
Standing with stems of thorns
to hurt those who touch them
Anger from fear of cutting their roots
made them grow thorns
Thorns strangle my soft stems
until I can't breath a crystal tear.
Please plant my present flower in freedom fields
with my roots.
copyright, 1990
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