Yes it was a beautiful Saturday morning
when I saw you amongst the field of daffodils
as the sun grazed your chestnut skin.
You looked at me with those amiable eyes
big enough to pull my melodic harp strings.
"You can't stay here"
"...not just yet," I said.
The grass wooshed against my thighs and hips
like a tiger, you stared me down.
"Do you know why you're here?"
"What are you addicted to here?"
The daffodils separated us
but I felt your immense soul
pulling me close.
"You wanna know what I'm addicted to?" he asked.
"Yes"
The grass tickles.
"You..."
Frazzled, I just had to ask
"I was expecting you'd say the daffodils."


"That is something I voluntarily can stop."