the daisy and a basket full of roses

i know of a girl, she says looking briefly at me. who loves in such naked passion.

lucky guy. i commented. i saw the bee on a yellow tulip looked up at me. and somehow, i saw it smiled.

they all were. she said. she loved each of them like crazy. like she never loved anybody before. like she never would love anybody after.

obviously she was wrong. i commented.

you think so? she turned sharply at me. but what is passion for a life full of it? and what is love in a life full of happiness? what’s another petal for a basket full of roses?

i couldn’t see her point.

she spoke up again. give me dirty, muddy roadside with dead plants everywhere. and i shall see a daisy from a mile away.


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