Could Not Think
Once was a simple garden of daisies growing here and there among roses stained by blood. But I did not know those daisies would be a garland upon my head. And as blood must spill to wear the red of a bloody rose, I could not think of lovely things, like petals creamed to butter; I could not think of simpler things-- of babies bubbling, or toddlers tickling: I could not think of anything. Sign in to see full entry.