No ground was ever so wet

As the tears from me drew

Into the chalk stained pavement

Of troublesome youth

 

And the train until today,

Kept quiet where

Once I played:

Held still before life

Came, to remind a boy

 

Of pain.

 

Now, living: it’s an engine!

The distant horn cracks

Hardly an eye trained

Seems quite ready

For fate

 

But fate, for all its fame

Seems muffled today

As the tracks kiss

Daffodils

Who fall forward, and

Decay

 

What worth is a beauty,

Then,

Not stolen from the

Innocent?

 

What eyes not cut

When they’re soft,

Know truth as it

Boasts, aloft?

 

Still nearer the now

Moving, locomotive

Flaunts:

Where vision apart falls,

 

And only ears remain.

And haunt.

_________________

 

R.V. Smith: “Daffodils”, 01-25-23

 

© 2023 by Ryan Vincent Smith