A yellow daisy
Greets my revival
Onto a drab
Saturday morning.
Assaulted
By vivid light
Bouncing off eight
Grooved petals
And a fluffy darker core.
It would be
Just any flower
Queued for
The thoughtless
Wither
If not for
The fact, a fact
That formed worlds
And shed blood
Divine,
That it was plucked
In the throes
Of light
And love
By my smiling child.
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