Has love crushed you yet
Daffodil of a girl

When you were a kid
Would you run around the park
Make up games yourself
In a fertile henhouse of imagination

These days I don’t have the energy
Why, he’s scattered about lawn clippings
What a worthless celebration

Maybe a clutch of daffodils
But not a whole damn garden of them

When you are finally crushed, dear girl
You must write me and tell me every detail
So I can miss the past too.