Daisie was a changeling.
She proposed that she was a cat.
I found her in darkness.
She didn't like where she was at.
She wore the hint of flowers.
There was dappled sunshine in her eyes.
She loved to be loved and held for hours.
She wanted to hear praises,
that she was clever, kind and wise.
She wanted to be good friends.
Good friends in a way more than others do.
Cats are usually more independent.
For Daisie that would not do.
She had to be near, she could not understand
So when I wasn't with her, she withered
a seered flower rootless in the clay.
Love and company were her food.
No tinned tuna or catnip.
Daisie, do not worry.
You won't wander lost,
your name is always on my lips.
You are no little snow cat in a flurry
of white vague memory.
You live in another place;
though you are not of this earth,
I remember you every day
sealed between the tender thoughts of
happiness and mirth.
Who would think a thought
could always bring us back together?
Daisie, you are not lost.
Daisie, you are forever.
I've reworked this several times. Metaphysical.
Please, see other Daisie poem, read explanation.
Copyright September 19 2012 All Rights Reserved By this Author
Melissa A Howells Meloo from her Tilt-a-World