Thomas the daisy



On the flowery meadow there were wild roses, buttercups, tulips, poppies, cowslips and a single, sad oxeye daisy. "Why aren't my petals coloured, as all the others are?" he muttered with bowed head.

When the flowers stood in full splendour the children came to pick them. Even the wild roses with their picky stems were plucked. But Thomas the daisy was left untouched. I knew it all along, Thomas thought. A flower isn't worth much without colours. I will probably wither on my roots and not give pleasure to anyone.

That afternoon a girl deep in thought came along. She thought she was in love, but she didn't know whether the boy was in love with her or not. So she wasn't absolutely sure she was in love with him either.

When she saw Thomas the daisy she ran over to him. "Please tell me whether he loves me or not" she asked. Thomas looked shyly at her. "I would very much like to," he said. "But you have to colour my petals first, so that I can be like the other flowers."

The girl smiled when she heard that. "Don't you know that white has all the colours in it?" Thomas stretched his neck. "All colours?" "Yes indeed," the girl said. "That's why you are so honest and can tell the truth."

Thomas had never thought about that before. And while he felt his petals being plucked one by one, a great happiness grew in him. He wasn't just being used for decoration - but as the bearer of the answer to an important question.

© Martin Nygaard - Illustration Victoria Dahr