Poetry

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They called her Daisy Eyes because her eyelashes were long and thick and yellow-brown. And when she looked out at the world, she always saw spring - possiblities. Oh, she saw the dark also which lengthened her name at times to Sad Daisy Eyes. Her irises were brown, with flecks of yellow waves, radiating the aliveness of a Van Gogh painting. At what her eyes beheld, a bystander was sure to tell her thoughts, as she could not hide them.

Mostly, she could see a flame real soft, glowing in the eyes of those who knew a bigger flame. They had to be within the range of one whose heart was not mild or tame. One who had true love and passion just the same. That's when they called her Laughing Daisy Eyes.

Sometimes she'd cry for joy, other times for pain. Tears like raindrops on a petal, holding on until it was too heavy. A burden dropping; a release of toxins. A gentle cry from Daisy Brown's eyes.

H. Stone (C) 2005

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