Daisy
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She loves me, she loves me not
Hair tied up in a little French knot
I imagined the kisses her mommy gave
...And in thought I kissed her that very same way
Did she have a pudgy angel's face
Was she blond and blue-eyed and full of grace?
The paint would dry in softest blend
Then for the moment my heart would mend
As I slowly plucked petals one by one
I envisioned her own tiny fingers and thumbs
I painted her in just that way
I wonder if she picked a daisy that day?
Beyond the Canvas
This poem & a painting titled "Daisy" are from a book called Canvas Emotions ...The Art of Therapy.
© Susan Van Sleet
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