I saw Narcissus peering over nature’s sills,
through windows of a paling Winter.
These were no fading faces, but in the spring of youth,
flushing my mind with promise of a distant Summer,
and yet, I just wanted Spring.
I wanted to hold her hand,
sit on park benches and warm in the glow of what could be.
I saw the sun’s inherent eastern glow,
as it stepped into today and introduced itself by chorusing vibrant daffodil trumpets.
My attention was caught and suddenly we danced…
…over horizons of tepid radiance with an audience of saffron and hooped petticoat smiles
I saw Spring lightly cat-walking down March’s corridor,
I cried for her last Autumn, whilst gazing into my own image,
she has blown cobwebbed airs of laying mists and delivered stars of heaven across this blue sky day,
o’er hills I call home and the Narcissus she calls her own.
©Nick Hawkins, all rights reserved 2011