I’m a little girl clutching wilted daisies
wetting my shoes with anguish
head cast downward to the stony earth

the King’s supposed to pass this way
I hear the sound of His laughter
while daisies drop petals like tears

I see His face; I hide my own
He lifts my chin to sunshine eyes
and breathes in the bouquet of me

His retreating steps pound my heart
I feel His abundance still
And I am holding roses

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