'Can't Let Maggie Go'

And so, she drifts in
through an open window
carried on a skittish,
southerly wind – gossamer
winged, her tiny seeds...

all that remains
of the trenchant flower
that once she was;
yellow hair, spiky fringe –
sententious to a fault.
Our ‘dandelion child’;

from the very morning
she was born – her
‘big brother’, such
as I was, picked some,
put them in a jar
on a table by her cot...

she – who shone
throughout adversity
and went on shining
for three hours short
of two decades; a Leo
right enough...

Yet now, precariously
cradled in my hand,
she trembles; feather-soft,
the slightest breath
would bear her away...

Sensing something
even greater than
my love for her,
she grows restless
for her freedom.

One blink of an eye
and, with a sigh,
she is gone – lost
to a St.Martin’s
Summer breeze...

‘Oh yes, she flies
like a bird in the sky,
she flies like a bird
and how I wish
that she was mine...'