In the democracy of daisies every blossom has one vote. The question on the ballot is Does he love me? If the answer's wrong I try another, a little sorry about the petals piling up around my shoes. Bees are loose in the fields where daisies wait and hope, dreaming of the kiss of a proboscis. We can't possibly understand what makes us such fools. I blame the June heat and everything about him. Submitted by Venus
Added: 24 Jun 2002 | Last Read: 11 Feb 2012 6:39 PM | Viewed: 4867 times
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