Girls in the Daisy Field

Giggly girls pick daisies

On a sunny golden afternoon.

Chatting happily,

While tossing pedals

Carelessly to the ground,

Saying,

“He loves me, he loves me not...”

Then dancing away

Without a care in the world,

For girlish games

Are just for laughter and delight.

 

 

Grownup girls reunite

In a daisy field,

Picking daisies for old time’s sake,

Yet this time

With a slight hesitation

In their voice,

A seriousness in their tone.

This is no longer

Just a game,

But they really ask,

They really wonder,

Does he love me or does he not?

When she lets go

Of that very last pedal,

Will she be letting go

Of another dream?

 

 

Grandma’s now

With curly gray hair of wisdom

On their heads,

Join hands with their friends

For one last time.

Back to the daisy field.

Quieter and worn,

Yet at peace,

With soft gentle smiles

On their lips.

One last time they pick a daisy

And toss the pedals to the ground,

“He loves me! He loves me!”

With every pedal

They say, “He loves me!

My Savior loves me!”

And with that

The last pedal

Falls to the ground.

It wasn’t the dream they expected

Nor the dream they

First hoped would come true,

But they have learned

That “He loves me

No matter what!”