Daisy
Oh, daisy, daisy, daisy,
Why must you be so indecisive, so ambiguous, yet so plain?
Your petals aren't even, or odd, or any which conceives.
The green stem which nourished you so,
The roots that held you so,
Why must they form you like so!
The bright hues of yellow that you say,
Or moreover perhaps to claim to be happy,
Are they really?
Dearest daisy, the one with the oddest petals,
Why must be it so?
Rhetorical, perhaps, yet not;
But why, oh tell me why, why eleven plus a half?