... poetry ...

My little thief.

I spied my daughter from afar
brown locks tumbling from her tiny frame
she sat intent, barefoot along the way
searching the scene for other eyes

when sure that her solitude was safe
she reached and grabbed mother’s daisy
tearing stem and root from muddy earth
she stole away her secret pink treasure

i thought for a moment to reveal my presence
and scold her for this brazen treachery
but spied once more her from afar
the proud pink daisy set lightly in her hair

and i knew without a shadow of doubt
why God had grown it there.


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