gold-tinted glasses

trees; reprise

summer is running towards us. i can see it in the lingering sunlight that stays out an hour after sunset curfew. i walk back to the park, the three trees. so much has changed yet all is the same here.

somewhere on the way back from winter, a river of daffodils had been born by the path. it was a welcome surprise, and that's all it was - a surprise. i looked at them fondly whenever i walked past them, then now that they've wilted i can only accept they were a fleeting gift that has parted.

that's not fair, i want to scream. the gleaming sun is still out, spring is still running its course - why did it have to go so soon? i'd like to say i would've wanted to know it'd be short-lived so i could cherish it more, but i know i'm wrong. holding onto it with the naïve hope it was a new beginning - my changed forever - made it all the more beautiful while it blossomed in my hand. it's not fair, and i wish it didn't wither in my palms so soon. but i suppose some part of me isn't so surprised the flower withered once i plucked it from the ground.

the trees are all green - equal at last. some grew to their potential as they had hoped, others had grown past their feathery performances at full bloom. petals on the ground mark a tragically beautiful loss, but they never last until summer. the three trees radiate green, an overflowing richness i can't help but stare at. the leaves are certainly not the extravagant flowers anymore, but i don't see any regret in their branches.

the flower is still as bright in my memory - i don't forget it to move on. the flower patch is in a quiet corner of my mind, not gone forever but no longer a place i constantly look back on, waiting, hoping it's going to bloom all of a sudden. the next flower will never be quite the same colour as the last.

the sun shows no signs of dialling down at seven. a daffodil shines like a chandelier in the grass. i'd like to stay here a little longer, if i can.