i imagine my grave to be in my backyard
under the old oak tree
no marker or stone
just soil sprinkled over me

close to the house full of memories
where my children were birthed
anniversaries, birthdays, family dinners
my favorite place on earth

i want the birds to build their nests
and their young to sing their songs
above me, they shall rejoice
remind of when I was once young

please grow daisies on my grave
the yellow ones are the best
they'll bloom & spread
and provide tiny creatures with a place to rest

don't worry about visiting me
i'll be as happy as can be
just knowing you're living your life
with purpose, happiness, productively

when, however, you miss me so
come sit at the bark of the tree
tell me about your worries & joys
let it all out to me

i'll listen & my response will come
with the waves of the breeze
you'll find rest in that heart of yours
and we shall both be at peace

eventually spring shall come & flowers shall bloom
then turn into autumn then summer
i'll silently watch the beauty of each
& watch the warm breeze turn into winter

when winter comes and the trees are bare
i'll enjoy the warmth deep down
i'll picture my loved ones near the fireplace
and my face will brighten with a smile, not a frown

i ask for nothing to remember me by
no need to even leave a trace
just know that under the soil of the old oak tree
*there's a smile on my face

Whilst looking far o'r
long time spreading moor
Cloaked in daisies white

There shall likely be
Bloss'ming cherry tree
Grasping at your sight

Brushing silently by
As daisies qui'tly sigh
As wind moves in flight

Long time you sought
And hard you fought
Not reaching low boughs height

Till setting down
For sun is drowned
Settled for the night

Just before you drift away
Something beckons you to stay
A calling in the night

Yellow and white flow'r
Both of no great pow'r
Standing to no great height

Forbidden by blistering sun
They Bloom when day is done
Sending petal into flight

Finally draws your eye
From boughs never nye
Form'ly insignif'gant beauty in sight

First blooms Flow'r of moon
Eve'ning Primrose thereafter soon
The second of yellow the first of white

I'm not a mind reader
my magic wand is in the shop

I can't let people drive me crazy
when I know it's in walking distance

give me a list and some parameters
otherwise; I'm off in the left field picking daisies

i cried yesterday,
though not because i miss you.

i cried for the person you used to be.
i cried over the boy who couldn't sing
(but i loved when you did)
i cried over the boy whose laugh lit up the room
(and i selfishly loved being the cause of it)
i cried over the boy who would do anything for anyone
(even someone as unworthy as myself)
i cried over the boy who
taught me the video games he played on sad days
(and was patient even when i smashed buttons)
i cried over the boy who cried during my favorite movies
(even though some parts were drowned out by electric touch on my skin)
i cried over the boy who believed he would spend forever with me
(but forever is relative, isn't it?)

i cried yesterday,
though not because i miss you
(even though i’m sure you’d like to think so).

i cried for the person you used to be.

You've planted daisies
Inside of my heart
And now they're starting to grow.

It's been awhile since plants
grew here.
It's been a garden
full of those potted
plants that you buy
at the supermarket or Home Depot
that you think you'll take care of
but they die soon after.

Gardens are only for those
with green thumbs.
My thumbs are red
from plowing and tilling the soil in my veins
in hopes that maybe
A good planter will come along
and plant the right flowers.

Daisies are starting to grow on me
and I think they're here to stay.

He asked me
my favorite flower
and I said I don’t have one
because I didn’t want him
to buy me flowers.

Not just him,
I don’t want anyone
to buy me flowers.

I want someone
to plant flowers
within me,
water them,
stay to watch
them grow
outside of me
and never die.

Yet, he’ll never get it.
That’s probably why
he bought me flowers
that I watched die
sitting on my desk.
And I didn’t even
press the petals.

You were beautiful
With music flowing through
Your veins and slipping out
Of your fingertips.
You charmed the sun and the moon
With your songs and
The universe fell for you.
I did too but I
Have no hope.
Why would you choose a
Daisy in a field of roses?