Dust has collected on the rim of Mum’s cracked, porcelain jug.

It’s where he’s arranged the daffodils

Once garden-fresh and gleaming

With the same butter hue as the faded postcard of Provence

Sunflowers hanging crucified on the cork board –

An abundance of golden petals frozen mid-flutter.

On the windowsill, diffuser reeds protrude like those sunflower stalks –

The gentle aroma of sun-quenched lavender sinks into the kitchen walls.

It masks the stench of three week old daffodils

Festering in the shade of closed curtains. Lopsided

Stems hang limp, starved of breath –

He cannot bring himself to throw it all away.

Instead, he clasps a corroded grafting knife and cuts

One transparent cutting from its withered, emerald body.

Sap stained hands will bury delicate epidermis

In a plastic prison: soil brimming.

Shielded in his mother’s pristine gardening gloves

He will nurture tender shoots, until Spring

When glorious yellow love will bud again.





image: Ted Hughes

courtesy of http://i.telegraph.co.uk/


One thought on “Daffodils

  1. This is so beautiful! Such tender imagery and I can really feel this man’s heartache and how he’s holding on to her through flowers, who seem to despair with him. Absolutely love it 🙂

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *