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: It's not a typical love affair, but love and tenderness, both are there. Named after a daisy, she lived amongst words, surrounded by adjectives in green fields of verbs. Some force you yield to. But she, with soft art, passed through my hard shield and into my heart. Not always are love stories just made of love. Sometimes love is not named but it's love just the same. This is not a typical love affair I met her on a bench in my local square. She made a little stir, tiny like a bird with her gentle feathers. She was surrounded by words, some as common as myself. She gave me books, two or three Their pages have come alive for me. Don't die now, you've still got time, just wait It's not the hour, my little flower Give me some more of you. More of the life in you Wait Not always are stories just made of love Sometimes love is not named. But it's love just the same.