The Daisy Chain.

It was an early late morning.
I hadn't read the time, 
But there was a feeling I was meant to be somewhere.
It ticked away.


How can you hold down time
When a breath of whimsy slips through
The false allure of a mid-winter sun?
Too perfect to know.


The Earl Grey and I lay outside
And played conversations
No one else could hear.
I wrote notes to you on the side.


It was then, or perhaps it was before, 
That I remembered the daisy chain, 
And I thought about making one for you, 
But I wrote this instead.