Sunday, April 12, 2020

Flower Child

(Playing with the Triolet form)

He loves me, he loves me not.
As simple as it sounds –
with a fistful of daisies, affection is sought.
He loves me…. He loves me…. Not.
A fistful of daisies is my life’s lot.
But he’s clutching daisies, too, plucking their crowns. 
He loves me? He loves me. Not
as simple as it sounds.



Or, a different take with a couple of tiny strategic edits:


Where the Petals Fall

He loves me, he loves me not. 
As simple as it sounds –  
with a fistful of daisies, affection is sought. 
He loves me…. He loves me…. Not. 
A fistful of daisies is my life’s lot. 
But she’s clutching daisies, too, plucking their crowns. 
She loves me? She loves me. Not 
as simple as it sounds.

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