daisies

he doesn't see,
or if he does, the line of daises
in the grass,
growing wild.
he does nothing to avoid
them.
perhaps he's taken
notice.
flowers have a way of grabbing
your eye.
perhaps he remembered
in a quick flash
a girl knew in school,
the flowers he bundled
neatly in his small
hand to give to her, to win
her over.
her smile and blush,
then running away.
he pushes the mower
forward.
trimming everything to within
an inch of the cold
earth.