Written for the Castle Writer's Guild Drabble challenge - Write a drabble of maximum 500 words, repeating the same word in every sentence.

Word: Daisy

Word Count: 500 exact (minus the title and author's note)

Summer Dream

He can barely see her from the distance, only her knees poking out from the grass that has grown high this summer, blue cornflowers and sun-kissed, long-stemmed daisies swaying in the breeze, splotches of red poppies catching the eye; the epitome of a summer meadow, warmth and bright colors, the sound of the ocean brushing the shore and the low hum of insects and he inhales deeply, soaks up the peaceful quiet, infinitely glad he'd let Kate talk him into not mowing behind their Hampton's home, letting it grow wild.

He finds her engulfed within the flowers, the daisies bending and dancing around her, heads nodded toward her in admiration like the sun that shines brilliantly on her, kissing her skin and good grief, he thinks, he's getting really sappy in his somewhat middle-aged days. But he can't help it; she's just so beautiful, her hair a tangled riot of caramel curls as it fans around her head, her cheeks flushed from the day's heat and smooth, endless tan legs peeking out from beneath those sexy daisy dukes.

She blinks her eyes open when his shadow falls across her, and he plucks one of the flowers from its stem as he sinks into the grass beside her, rests his head on his elbow while trailing the daisy down her cheek and the smooth length of her neck and her eyelids flutter, a trail of goose bumps erupting where the petals caress her skin.

"They're so friendly," she hums with a serene smile, "don't you think daisies are the friendliest flower?"

"Isn't that a line from a movie," he grins, twirling the daisy between his fingertips so that the yellow petals swirl across her collarbones, carefully dipping into the valley of her cleavage until her breath catches enticingly in her throat.

She shrugs, her smile turning more subdued as she sighs, looks up at him earnestly while she plays with the daisy chain she's holding between her fingertips, the stems and blossoms expertly knotted together to form a perfect circle.

"Do you think I'll be a good mother," she wonders, her fingers absentmindedly plucking at the bright yellow petals of one of the daisies while her teeth snag at her bottom lip, concern dripping from her words, making his heart ache.

"Kate," he murmurs, pushes her hair off her forehead and behind her ears before he tucks the daisy into her wind-tussled curls, trailing his fingertips down her cheek and the swell of her bottom lip.

He wants to kiss her, wants to make her forget every doubt and fear and worry with the touch of his lips and the worship of his hands and the breadth of his love but instead he adjusts the daisy chain until it rests centered on her rounded belly, curving his palm to the taut warmth of her skin.

He holds her eyes, and enveloped by the sway of friendly daisies and the peace of a summer afternoon he reassures, "you'll be an extraordinary mother."