The veiled spring bride,
daisies wrapped in burlap ribbon,
white linen summer dresses
to dry on lines by the countryside.

She was mountainous,
green as blades born tender and sweet,
pink as pads of her babes feet,
the fervor of love on her cheeks

She was lace and cinder ashes,
fragile, worn thin, born of fire,
burning under charcoal lashes,
that celestial valor, drained

She was a prayer on bruised knees,
calling to the Lord by name,
tears to carry further the pleas,
of the innocence left in her

That God may hear and answer her
in those blades that bore her as babe
and woman, the grains that gave
her life and fruits and time away

She was the veiled spring bride
Never will she wither, never
will she die, she is the daisies
ever-blooming, by the countryside