The Daisy Chain
She skipped down the lane, in her silken, pink dress,
Quietly humming, her smile, effortless.
A spirit of innocence, as nature intends,
Her days full of wonder, where time never ends.
The noonday sun mirrored, on golden brown hair,
Ribbon-tied ringlets held high, in midair.
In rhythm, they bounced with her large, pink frock bow,
The crafted, bright flowers of the skirt, hung below.
She tripped through the daylight, the world at her feet,
Her white, leather sandals, unscuffed, and still neat.
This elfin enchantress with soft, dimpled knees,
Could charm every songbird from all of the trees!
Soon, she sat down upon, cool, long, green grass
wildflowers & clover entwined it, en masse.
Her pretty dress; buoyant, sank slowly to ground,
As plump, putty fingers gathered daisies she’d found.
Breaking the skin of the stem she found tricky,
Her half-bitten nails didn’t help, more’s the pity!
Determined & careful, her treasure complete,
A delicate daisy chain, precious and sweet.
Savour the memories, remember the scene,
In a heartbeat, only daisies grow where she had been.
The grains from the hourglass, fallen & gone,
A blink of an eye, fades, where beauty had shone.
Now the pink dress lies sleeping, forlorn in a drawer,
And the memories lie scattered all over the floor,
They’re silken, they’re crumpled,
They’re all that remain,
Lain on childhood’s grave with the sweet daisy chain.
13th April 2019
Seeing the little daisies springing up through the grass, always reminds me of sitting & making daisy chains, as a child. Splitting the stems to thread each flower through could be difficult, trying not to slice the loop completely, and making sure the stems were as long as possible, in case of breakage. We wore them round our necks, wrists & as little crowns on our heads. Simple pleasures to while away the day, during endless Summers…poor flowers, we didn’t realise, & there were so many!