111919b

"Don't eat the daisies," the sign said,
Johnny did and dropped down dead,
when he'd safely been interred,
we thought that was the dernier word,
in the spring a daisy tree,
grew from the plot where John was laid,
I guess his juices have been made,
into this thing that all can see,
downwind of us its seeds will go,
and Johnny with them? I don't know.