The Daisy Chain
You can’t catch me today,
I’ve more power than ever before.
I can swallow you up
and change you into a chrysalis.
There is a singing in my head
that makes it hard to concentrate on
my typing.
Perhaps it is Sappho calling,
she and I are friends,
we sing together sometimes.
You didn’t know that, did you?
I will find my way through
this metal-plastic-
silver-yellow world.
It’s a maze and I have
new zest for the game.
Look for me between the piano keys,
they are yellow and need dusting.
Color
I can still remember the
color of your love when it burned
white hot for me, so that I was
afraid to stand too close, afraid
of being consumed by its
passion, afraid of losing
myself in its intensity.
Having once loved that deeply
I am scarred and can only
remember and dream and
wonder. There can be no other
love like this for me.
You are what I measure all
others against. You have
given this to me, the color
of the strength that holds
me up, the color of the
memory, the color of the dream.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Lily Boone is a poet living in a small town in northwest Ohio. She leads a very dull life.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The Merida Review 