Child of light,

skipping down the eggshell path,

of your butterfly years,

yellow tendrils skying wild behind you,

swept back by your delight

A flower about to open

about to gladden the world

petal by milky petal

gather me a daisy chain

made from your joy

to wear in my winter

when the glow of now

pales to the far scent of fragile frost

Margaret of the marigold ways

running across deep october fields

drowning me

in the pollen of your madcap years

making pain seem solace

all child and sudden wisdom amazing me.