some days are dead
like the old daffodil
blooms yesterday lighting
up the earth today
laying brown and forlorn

i would like to escape the
dark soil making of this dying
would love to make love all
day all night to chase away
thoughts of endings right
after the bloom has fallen

would love to find one place
where i could hang my clothes
and find that i live here in my
own place not someone else’s
but my bloom is past i lie here
making good earth trying to
remember there will again be
a time to bloom