Sunday, 11 February 2007

XXIV: Lines written while pulling the petals off a daisy

He loves me.
He loves me.
He loves me.
He loves me.
He loves me.
He loves me.
He loves me.
He loves me.
He loves me.
He loves me.
He loves me.
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6 comments:

  1. chopton11 February 2007 at 10:34

    I should note that the title of this poem is a complete lie. Or, as I would prefer, a "poetic conceit".

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  2. BunnyGirl11 February 2007 at 11:00

    Hehehehe. This made me smile

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  3. Jim Swindle13 February 2007 at 04:04

    A great thought.

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  4. jillbeth15 February 2007 at 03:50

    I'll think of this "poem" now whenever I see a daisy!

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  5. Karen18 February 2007 at 19:19

    I love this one. I blogged this weekend "Freedom", because the freedom I was feeling was that he loved me, and that nothing could separate me from that love NOT ONE THING

    ReplyDelete
  6. chopton21 February 2007 at 15:35

    It's a great feeling, Karen!

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