He loves me, he doesn't

Wandering through the park. My thoughts are not with me, they're with you.
The fresh green grass tickles my soles, I giggle like a little girl.
My mind is concentrated on your face, my ears only hear your voice and I smell only you.
I wonder if we would be a good match, you'd give my life a tiny swirl.

My way continues until there's the urge to wait,
stop at a sea made of flowers, all those beautiful colours.
I grab a daisy, I pick it gently. Eyeing that nature beauty with petals more than eight.
Decide to rest on a meadow as big as stadiums, don't care about other strollers.

Do you remember trivial game we played during childhood?
You get a flower and pick petal to petal, asking the same question. 
Does he loves me, does he not? Cheaper than fortune tellers, all this could.
We all did it at least once. Having a crush makes the fear lessen.

Every petal has its own answer, you need to find yours,
as long as you're not satisfied with your answer keep on going.
Some may only see playing but others find an answer that ensures.
In many years I will still pick petals, so many things will stay unknowing.

verfasst: 08.02.2018

~Mandy

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