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That Girl This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

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She’s the kind of girl
With a daisy in her hair
And blades of grass between her toes
She’s the kind of girl
With mountains in her eyes
And the smell of catch-me-not’s in her nose
She spins and spins and spins
The lace bottom of her dress flying high
A china saucer around her calves
The satin bow unravels
But she keeps on spinning, spinning spinning
She can’t stop won’t stop won’t stop
Because she knows
Beneath those brows of boomerangs
If she stops
The world will stop
She will collapse on the blades
The daisy will float away
And so will she.





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