"Our Spot"
by April Ordoñez

Thrice she called him down to see
What crushed beneath her legs,
"No," replied the boy who didn't
Seem to hear her beg.
He said he did not want to move
As sight had been a blessing,
His eyes saw beauty'n front of him,
"I do not feel like messing--"
When his lady interrupted,
She said, "Don't you want to touch?"
Captured by the distant blur,
He did not feel as such, so he
Gazed on toward the hills of flowers
And they'd never know
That those same white daisies he had seen
Also tickled her toes.