Your supple skin has slipped its mask
startled eyes stare absent upon the world
like a frozen head lit rabbit – quivering at the scene –
though still such innocence remains.
Lost passages chase the mutations of your life
tender surrounds your mislaid days.
Permit me to paint you fields of green, place orange
trees in your wake.
Let me broaden your wings –
determined to withstand the bitter storm.
Allow me to listen to you laugh: always!
White roses on a blue day positioned idly
in a golden pot I give to you.
A bracelet of change: oh, I think not –
how quickly I have become accustomed
to your childlike ways.
Your summer’s incandescence plays hide come
seek with me
I shall find you long before, you ever mislay yourself.
Sweet Daughter of never ageing life…
Poppy March 2013 ~xx~