the other marguerites.
The sun,
squinting through the trees.
In my imagination
sail boats with antique white sails
bobbing on an azure sea.
The smell of salt and chips in a bag.
The cat who has adopted us,
lazing at my feet
then sloping off through the dew bell soaked grass.
My eyes,
far far away
looking at the stars and the coast
wondering,
who is the king of all these?
