plastic daisy


sometimes I wonder
if you've ever existed

sometimes I see your dress flicker before my eyes
sometimes I think it's your cold hands that I feel

but who are you?

I always picture you with a plastic daisy on one of your sun kissed fingers
it's always Saturday morning and the sheets are cool and crisp
your sleep is pure
your legs against mine

I don't know who you are today
maybe nor who you were then

I'm not sure we ever met

I don't miss you

you're just memories
yesterday's dishes

it's not that I find the water that is life to be cold
I'm not bitter

it's more as if I've been into a late summer's sea

and everytime I get up
the winds of the coming fall

remind me that I am dripping
still.






Poetry by C-F Haegring
Read 495 times
Written on 2011-12-12 at 12:29

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An intriguing piece, Mr Haegring.
The structure suits well the general sense of uncertainty that lies at the heart of the piece. And there is some beautiful imagery, which contrasts really quite violently with the disparaging tone of 'yesterday's dishes', not to mention the title.
For some reason, this quotation comes to mind: 'A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.'
2011-12-12