One two three four,
I started counting them on my way galore.
Five six seven eight,
and I began to lean under the weight.
Nine ten eleven twelve,
and I found they had a depth which I must delve.
Thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen,
their  perfume and light began to burst in.
Seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty,
and they brought in mind memories plenty.
A pause, a shade, a touch of grey
cuddled in the lap of green,
they spoke in a thousand tongues,
a field of the wild, frosty daisies
on a random Sunday morn.