Daisy in your heart, though flawed, beautiful.

Time heeds for no man

but he could not lay waste to you.

Looking in from without

disguised.

Some could see you

and saw you loved the sight of the sunrise. 

How transparent 

we must have been to you out there. 

Rough edges, 

sharp tones, 

thorns, 

all contemptible, we your canvas. 

Disdain shrouded in darkness 

and faded to the back. 

We still stand, silent, 

just as you left us.

Vibrant colors and light 

still plastered on us. 

We now all remain parts of your portrait. 

Were the edges truly so unremarkable? 

How does one simply paint as you did? 

Greed, desire, fear, 

and still you wished to keep us close. 

You painted 

and tended to us all. 

You tucked us away in your pocket, 

to dote over. 

To love. 

To keep painting. 

One cannot see color without light. 

And you — you were our sunrise. Our daisy.