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For Felicity and Ross

I envisage you both, like an old movie scene
In a fieldful of daisies with a gold sunlit sheen.
He plays with your hair as you lie in his arms,
Too absorbed in your work to notice his charms.
You’re making a daisy chain, threading the links,
Asking him girlishly, Look, what d’you think?
Others, instead, would pull them apart,
And claim this destruction a sign of their heart,
Plucking the petals from the ugly gold head,
Leaving them dull, deflowered in dead,
Dissolving in pitying, self-obsessed tears
As the last petal – He loves me not! – disappears.
You have no need, for you know what they’d say,
However you plucked them, in every way.
So you weave them together, each bound to another,
Fingers aflutter, entwined in each other.
Like a sinuous snake, the daisy chain winds
Through the pleasant green envy that colours my mind.
Whether you last is a faraway thought,
For this time, like a butterfly net, has you caught.
There’s only the now as he raises your hair,
Forming a white-golden necklace with care,
Uniting the chain – the ends become one,
He ties their green stalks, and the ends become one.

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The following comments are for "Daisy Chains"
by praveenkm

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