Taylor Wilson Poetry
Taylor Wilson - Tufts
V:50 I:3
To Breathe a Daisy
To Breathe a Daisy
For a day, a year,
perchance, a lifetime,
a bloodred birthday daisy
wilts quietly in a riotous bouquet.
The vase’s base can’t be
the perfect orb that it appears
or my carpet would be littered
with bloodred daisy tears.
This day, this year
- no more.
Like the blowing, sopping snow,
it melts into the streaming runoff,
indistinguishable
from the snowflake before it or after or with
but for the breath of a daisy
and water spilling to the floor.