blue birds and daisies

when you were a child,

you hid

under the wooden desk
awaiting the furnace
blast of
the atomic bomb.
you remember
seeing your friend penny,

crouched next to you,

with her blonde

pigtails hanging down

around her neck,

coloring still
in her book, blue birds
and daisies,

her fingers pressing

crayons to the page.

how could the world
possibly end with
such a beautiful creature

as this beside you?