When night fell, I slept
& dreamt of spring,
flowers; daisies blooming
left & right … but
the colours were askew
& so I asked the moon
to trade places
with the sun.
& she obliged.

But still, in that new light
I felt guilty.
All those red petals
no longer belong to me.
A passerby came along
& I panicked
trying to find a name
for what was clearly a rose.
(there were thorns after all)

I remained speechless,
dug up the flowerbed,
& burnt the remains.
I was only trying to
keep up with appearances.
Those colours
have no place
growing here.

In the field of my mind,
posies of wild-flowers
mostly delicious little daisies,
sometimes those shameful red roses,
I wish the latter would just wilt.