Nearly Daffodils

Mostly it feels like a waste.

So much laughter un-canned,

I'd forgotten the taste.

Don't make me go back.

All the plans we tiptoed around

In quiet hours; daffodil buds.

There is a reason the first nine months doesn't count.

Nearly,

(Presque, wait no)

Daffodils.

Nearly,

(Presque, wait no)

Daffodils.

Sometimes it tears like a freight train

Through a christening,

Displacing the new growth and making everything ugly.

Sometimes I want to make a home on it,

To look between the wheels that I'm scared of being under.

I've started whistling in the mornings;

I like to hear the birds sing.

Nearly,

(Presque, wait no)

Daffodils.

Nearly,

(Presque, wait no)

Daffodils.

Last night I dreamt that we lasted all the way 'til spring,

But now the fields are full of red and blue with nothing in between.

You can lead water to the daffodils.

Mostly it feels like a waste.

So much laughter un-canned,

I'd forgotten the taste.

Don't make me…

Nearly,

(Presque, wait no)

Daffodils.

Nearly,

(Presque, wait no)

Daffodils.

Last night I dreamt that we lasted all the way 'til spring,

But now the fields are full of red and blue with nothing in between.

You can lead water to the daffodils,

But you can't make them drink.