You might begin to think of the darkness as her earth brown and green. She...who mines a vastitude of daisies. And all things that grow tall and bend from the wind. The brilliance of colors turned on stars. In the night sky shaken. Dropping lights. So you can see her cut out yellow daisies. She placed in a mint green vase. The perfumes intent, To find us mingling because we inhale. The apples and peaches juiced. Poured into two gold tinged glasses to savor. A drunken potion remains a stain on her lips to kiss. Her daisies to love. Copyright S. Kamber