I laid in the bed next to you late tonight,
Listening to the humming of the overhead fan,
Noticed your sweet smile as I held you so tight,
And secretly dreamt a dream of becoming your man.
Darling, I would handpick you a basket of daisies,
Evenly cut, full of innocence, gentleness and purity,
Softening the tone of life’s endless complexities,
As we try to define this emotion of vast obscurity.
Such a flower shines with the brilliance of the sun,
Uniquely, it opens with daybreak and closes upon twilight,
Just like the daisy you, too, can be compared to none,
Mesmerized by such perfection, I wish for greater foresight.
As young maidens once did, you may pluck each petal,
And ask the question, “He loves me, he loves me not”,
I hope that your nerves soon start to settle,
Finding the tearing of each blosoom was all for naught.
As the last white petal falls from each light green stalk,
I stand unfaltering, gripping your hand all the firmer,
Fate shows us with each passing day, closer in step we walk,
Fearful of past expereinces, this truth we keep to a murmur.
But, my dear, as I watch you drift into a deep, dreamy sleep,
I know you have as many virtues as the daisy has petals of pearl,
And so it is you that all the closer to my heart I do keep,
Silently wondering, every curiously, if you dream of becoming my girl.