277 Poem by RIC BASTASA
277
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of the little white daisy
contented in the
forest where all the
other plants are confused
the oak wanting to be a lilac
the lilac wanting to be a pine
the pine wanting to be a daisy
you are the daisy
i suppose so
how can i ever believe you
when all the while
you have been dreaming
of wings to fly away?
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Topic(s) of this poem: confused,plants
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8/28/2026 6:50:11 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
