A poem began to form In my head With Cliche images of Me planting daisy seeds In my belly, Sprouting them in my ribs, And growing beautiful pink Blossoms in my heart. Only to have you crush them. Knowing your contempt of Daisies, I wrote of cultivating roses -- From seedling, sprout and bud To long tapering stem with Delicate petals In the color of trite writing. You smelled them, declared them Fine, and uprooted them to Plant your fragile White daffodils with their own Xanth