Daisy Chain

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Daisy Chain

I spied her sitting in the summer grass

Legs outstretched in her pretty blue gown

Her face cupped in summer’s gentle caress

She’d fashioned a daisy chain worn as a crown.

 

Looking up, the sun made her squint

I could make out her lips blushed red

Dappled tree shadows of hair did tint

Sun bleached locks curled from her head.

 

She stayed where she was of me unaware

Basking in the warmth of summer bloom

Resting back on her arms without a care

Me unable to invade - nature was her room.

 

On a river of air her perfume flowed to me

It made me dizzy knowing she was there

Standing, watching, knowing where I should be

Sitting next to the woman with summer hair.

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Poetry is what gets lost in translation.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

Artist’s Poems (37)

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