A daisy nurtured by the sun
grows beside a loaded gun.
With the wind a thin stem bends.
Petals rip but always mend.
'Dainty' does define her well.
She speaks gently and doesn't yell.

Above the garden, the sky grows sick
and chokes on air so hot and thick.
Lightning punctures clouds feet deep.
Onto white petals, raindrops weep.
Whispering winds scream loudly now.
Through yellow pollen they violently plow.

A storm pollutes the now black sky.
The daisy a splinter, in it's eye.
Small but sharp, she states her claim.
Giving opinion but never blame.
Slowly drowning in wrothy waves
for dry land a drenched stem craves.