I saw a child,
wandering.
She had sand
caked in her fluffy dress.
She picked up daisies,
and removed petals,
not knowing
in 10 years,
she'd be asking those petals
if he loved her,
or loved her not.
But for now,
the only man
she would love
was her father,
he sat on a bench
at the edge of a cliff,
thinking in the colors of fear,
he thought red,
he thought black,
he thought gray.
He thought about how stupid games were,
and why he ever thought a daisy meant shit.