Once there were daisies, a glorious saffron acre
glowing along the river, canary beauties thriving by the waters.
I’d slip to their beds, through a carpet of moss, to lovingly snip the slender stems
and take them from under their cerulean canopy.
Selfishly I’d adorn my humble rooms.
METAMORPHOSIS!
A temple to color.
The blooms were nature’s offering to me,
tiny, graceful appendages radiating from a heart of gold.
The daisies are gone now. A shopping mall marks their grave.
My peaceful, precious disks of sunshine another sacrifice to the god of commerce.
General
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I like how you’ve interpreted daisies! These metaphorically golden-hearted flowers. I remember in HS we were taught some facts about “color psychology.” This was in relation to a lesson series where we read several novels that featured color symbolism. We were told that yellow means “danger” and “white” means pure. So, that girl Gatsby likes in The Great Gatsby isn’t really as she appears to be. (If you’ve read that book, you’ll know her favorite flower is a daisy, so that’s how this all connects.) Your interpretation is more mild and cheery and for your piece is great!