Daisy Chain

The little girl sits in silence,
In the cornfield, plucking a rose,
Oblivious to the background violence,
The perfect juxtapose.

Her daddy should’ve been back by now,
He’d promised, when he told her to hide,
That he’d be back soon, somehow,
And her daddy never lied.

Ever since mommy had run away,
Daddy was all she had,
“Just you and me, kiddo,” he’d always say,
She’d never missed mommy that bad.

She’d fallen down and scraped her knee,
While they were running away from their house,
He said, “Sit down, kiddo, and wait for me,
Remember, as quiet as a mouse!”

What could she possibly have understood,
About the hell that war brought about,
Her dad had just told her that this was not good,
Never said nothin’ about how their house,

Was rigged with explosives, to go off any time,
And cost them all they held dear,
No, daddy pretended that all was fine,
To protect his princess from fear.

He’d run back to the house to get her a plaster,
Covered in sweat and mud,
Maybe the pain would go away faster,
If she just couldn’t see the blood.

She saw the explosion, and thought nothing of it,
Her daddy would not have been in it,
He was HER daddy; he’d somehow rise above it,
And come walking out of the door any minute.

But she’s nothing to no one anymore,
The little girl there, on the plain,
Sitting, waiting, watching the door,
Making her daddy a daisy chain.