Daisy Chain
I remember a day in the spring of my life,
Lying in emerald grass alone with you,
We knew of no sorrow, no pain and no strife,
We knew of no lies, only that which was true,
I remember the sun shining on your skin,
As you plucked a daisy from the fertile ground,
A day when our lives were purged of all sin,
A day when hope and tranquillity were found,
And I remember the daisy chain you made,
Deftly forged by your quick, nimble hands,
Around my wrist it was proudly displayed,
So meaningful yet not at all grand,
I wore it all day and I wore it all night,
Until the petals blackened and the stalk frayed,
Twisted and withered out of my sight,
Like our friendship gradually wasted away,
So I left it in that bottom drawer,
And let the clutter accumulate above it,
Suffocated by years, losing what came before,
My little daisy chain forgot that I love it,
Until the fateful day, the drawer opens,
When I am old and wise and scarred,
Until the previously unthinkable happens,
When my innocence is clearly marred,
I found it lying there, barely alive,
A picture of my tortured youth,
Clinging on, it managed to survive,
Lying there so cold and aloof,
And I tied it tight around my wrist,
A wrist that knew so many scars,
And I clenched my red and rotten fists,
Around these bloodstained bars,
Remembering how things used to be,
Before they killed my childhood,
Remembering the you and me,
And everything I understood.
I remember a day in the spring of my life,
Lying in emerald grass alone with you,
We knew of no sorrow, no pain and no strife,
We knew of no lies, only that which was true,
I remember the sun shining on your skin,
As you plucked a daisy from the fertile ground,
A day when our lives were purged of all sin,
A day when hope and tranquillity were found,
And I remember the daisy chain you made,
Deftly forged by your quick, nimble hands,
Around my wrist it was proudly displayed,
So meaningful yet not at all grand,
I wore it all day and I wore it all night,
Until the petals blackened and the stalk frayed,
Twisted and withered out of my sight,
Like our friendship gradually wasted away,
So I left it in that bottom drawer,
And let the clutter accumulate above it,
Suffocated by years, losing what came before,
My little daisy chain forgot that I love it,
Until the fateful day, the drawer opens,
When I am old and wise and scarred,
Until the previously unthinkable happens,
When my innocence is clearly marred,
I found it lying there, barely alive,
A picture of my tortured youth,
Clinging on, it managed to survive,
Lying there so cold and aloof,
And I tied it tight around my wrist,
A wrist that knew so many scars,
And I clenched my red and rotten fists,
Around these bloodstained bars,
Remembering how things used to be,
Before they killed my childhood,
Remembering the you and me,
And everything I understood.
Community Member