Daisy Chains

by Daniel Wale

They never took
long to make,
nor did they lack
that tender sloppiness
which made the petals
melt pink in the palms,
like juiced hearts.
These were when
we ran our
fingers through the
wilting stems; supposed
they were her hair
or her hands.
These were when
we laboured those
shy hours away
in a shivering line
of blushes, making
a short-lived toy
of short-lived love.