There once was a house--

A small house upon a hill--

Battered-- leaking-- and barely standing,

But standing still on will.


Within the house lived a man--

An old man upon a staff--

Mute-- frail-- and barely standing,

But standing still on will.


In the window sill were yellow daisies--

Daisies his sweet Marie once loved--

He cherished them, love and tender care--

For that was how his sweet Marie's memory lived on.

~~~~~~~~~~

One day horror struck the town--

The town in which he lived.

A child was found, beaten and drowned--

Close to his property line.


The child had often visited the old man--

They'd fished that pond many times--

The joy it brought to see the child's smile--

Had been such a gift after his wife's demise.


The old man heard--

But no words he could find, so--

He drowned himself again in wine--

And again sobbed himself to sleep.


While he slept with no defense,

The townsfolk came, fueled by the father's lies--

And barred his door, his only escape,

Poured oil and set it to fire.


The old man woke too late--

As if he could have fought.

The smoke quickly crippled his lungs--

Already depleted by cancer.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the midst of the ashes,

Only the chimney remained--

A blackened chimney upon the hill--

Weak-- fractured-- and barely standing,

But standing still on will.


Within the chimney there was a tiny seed--

A daisy seed upon the ash--

Singed-- disfigured-- and barely standing,

But standing still on will.

~~~~~~~~~~

Soon thereafter came the rain--

The torrents beat the hill--

And crumbled the chimney--

And drowned the seed within.

~~~~~~~~~~

But once the rains receded--

And the sun returned again--

A tiny seedling sprouted and grew--

Sowing yellow daisies across the hill--

All the way to the pond--

Where the old man--

And his sweet Marie--

And the child--

Fished eternally.

© caspershay