She was daisy chains in July
Wilted by August
And nearly nonexistent when the leaves fell
But she bounced back every spring
Even though she fell often
In those season changing winds
She was soft and small
And had her heart right there
In the center
More golden than the sun
She was the definition of delicate
And knew the meaning of sincerity
She was everything she could have been
And somehow always growing
She was not one, but many
A symbol of simplicity
And I'd wear her as a crown
If only
She'd let me