Expressions

If My Cranium Were a Daisy: a poem

By ANDREW NGUYEN
Staff Writer

With each wilting flower,

The new day dawns

And the sun’s blonde hair, ever so slowly,

Seeps into the skyline, each moment,

A little bit further, a little bit further.

But dusk will return, seasons the same!

Sure, but never again will petals un-bloom

And seeds un-sprout, for certain,

Dusk will return, seasons the same,

But gone are the moments my flower stood a stem,

Or my petals gleamed in the innocent, pure white,

For we became slaves to the oncoming tyranny of the sun

And today, my God, today I’ve yellowed,

Matured, my flower wilts.

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