Through A Breathing Quilt

I step towards the pond

of daffodils, all around me.

Twirling, waltzing, in the

whispering, spritely zephyr, the

spring flowering bulbs like an adorning

patched quilt of amber, giving a

mother’s kiss to my feet, embedded

within. The crisp air invigorates my

senses, and envelops around my pale

skin. My fingers graze the

velvety petals of aureolin stars around

the protruding centre, soft and tangible

as breath, stretching along the

pastures. I press my nose against

the frill-edged trumpet middle, the

sweet, tangy aroma of honey tickling

my youthful nostrils. The pollen-stained

golden freckles across my tender cheeks

like Coraline’s, as I remain tucked

within the living quilt of daffodils. Forever.