Stephen Schwei. Poetry



If I was a daisy
in a sun-breezed meadow,
one among millions
and my kids were looking
to find me,
drawing near,
their voices louder,
then growing fainter,
exasperated, searching,
maybe even giving up.

If I was searching for myself,
and couldn’t distinguish
or describe me well enough.
Would it matter
after this season is gone?
Do I know any season
but this one?

I converse with my neighbors,
blossom and sway
according to nature’s rhythms,
sharing stories
of how our children
try to find us.
Their frustration
so adorable,
like every generation
before them.

We blanket the hillside,
carpet the field,
each lost among 
so many flowers,
blending with all the others,
I’m right here,
among a mass of daisies.

Learn more about Stephen Schwei on his website, here


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