Daisy

Skies of violet,
Oceans of gray.
Faces of porcelaine
And faces of clay.
There's no room for daisies
In a lily boquet.
And when the florist comes,
I'll look away,
Because I will be pruned,
And the otehrs will stay.
Skies of violet,
Oceans of gray.
Perhaps I'll be beautiful
Another day.





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