I have come to visit you
in your hospital of exquisite white.
You look like a primrose,
wilting in the sunlight that puddles on your sheets.
It was a daffodil spring
the first time we walked together
beneath these trees.
Even the air was green,
with pollen and whispering papery leaves.
You were touching a thousand pieces
of grass. On your knees--pale fingers
separating the blades.
You were like a youthful sacrifice,
sitting on your feet, leaning towards the ground.
Your neck was white
where the hair fell away from it.
I stared as if you were a secret
just revealed, but then you laughed
and opened your eyes.
I always thought I would remember you
For those eyes.
But in the end
all I will envision
is the rhinestone daffodil.
I see no redemption here.
You were always one
who could walk unscathed among the lions,
but in this silence the yellow rhinestones
are more alive than you.