First standing still on a
day dancing, prancing, pretty – a tale
of falling flowers, fluttering.
Spring sprung –
I find a dandy lion, a daffodil;
keep it close, safe, a secret snowdrop.
Thinking of kings and queens – and I’m quiet
about the hidden hoekkie high in
the top of the garden – lost in the
end of never. The ever-never memory
of flowers – of those first spring days now
autumn is almost all about left of my life.