I am no rose,
Petals soft and sweet pink.
I am a humble daisy.
A single white daisy with a proper yellow face,
Sitting in a patch of many other little daisies.
I have never been a rose,
And never will be,
And maybe that is where the story will end,
But daisies have their own truth to tell.
We sit facing the sun on a spring morning,
Dew glistening on petals.
Roses may be plucked to be placed on tables and given to loved ones.
But daisies have their own stories too.
Sitting behind a little ear or on a head as a crown,
We daisies are just as loved as roses,
Even if we will never be roses.
So remember you are loved,
Just as you deserve to be.
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