DAISIES

By Frances Harris

Little faces white and yellow,

In my garden pale and weedy,

I forgot to pull you up,

From a pot so tossed about,

You sat there, your twiggy state,

Wizen, dry and not well formed,

I ignored you where you languished,

In my garden, I confess,

Am I such a thoughtless relic?

To deny that you belong,

In this place I call a refuge,

Near where birds and crickets sing,

Every being has its virtue,

Rarely noticed in the background,

No imagination needed

To appreciate you worth,

You remind me to do better,

I ignored you at your worst,

You burst out in splendid glory,

Even though I left you out.