daisy

She bent and placed a single daisy upon the grave. A simple white daisy. The plainest of flowers, perhaps the purest, Elspeth thought. It had cost next to nothing at all, and perhaps that was the point. She wasn__ being cheap. She was being symbolic. In her mind, Andrea deserved only the unstained purity of the simplest of daisies, a daisy that was unsoiled by a wealth that couldn__ find the money to have claimed her soul.

You can't be sad when Daisy is around, she won't let you.

Daisies that bring you joy are better than roses that bring you sorrow.

Beholdthe azure sea in front of you,the turquoise sky above you,the amber mountain beneath your feet,and the golden daisy in your hands.How are you not the richest person on earth?

A daisy blooming in a desert is worth more than a rose blossoming in a rainforest.

In a world full of daisies dare to be a rose.

A rose would be miserable if it was forced to be a daisy, no matter how much water it was fed.

On the warm stone walls, climbing roses were just coming into bloom and great twisted branches of honeysuckle and clematis wrestled each other as they tumbled up and over the top of the wall. Against another wall were white apple blossoms on branches cut into sharp crucifixes and forced to lie flat against the stone. Below, the huge frilled lips of giant tulips in shades of white and cream nodded in their beds. They were almost finished now, spread open too far, splayed, exposing obscene black centers. I've never had my own garden but I suddenly recognized something in the tangle of this one that wasn't beauty. Passion, maybe. And something else. Rage.

I didn't wave my daisy. I felt small, the way an ant must feel looking up at a field of wildflowers. I was nothing. I was trapped below flowers, buried under them, while girls like Lizzie Lovett danced overhead. That was life. We all have a place.

Gods must be crazyFlowers must be daisyClouds must be hazyWinds must be lazyWhat else it could be_My heart must be in love lately_

Alongside the practical thought something else struggled and, like an escaped butterfly, took wing: the assurance of something wonderful awaiting her. Just around the corner......

The brief silence that follows is as tender as arainstorm of daisies.

If my like for you was a footy crowd, you'd be deaf cos of the roar.And if my like for you were a boxer, there'd be a dead guy lying on the floor.And if my like for you were sugar, you'd lose your teeth before you were twenty. And if my like for you was money, let's just say you'd be spending plenty.