Daffodils..

I layed with you in a bed of daffodils and it was sweet.
I felt the cool gentle breeze brushing against my toes, a slight shiver ran through my body, bumps permeating all over. I dug my face deeper into the sweet smell of daffodils, and I felt more at ease. Time was passing but it felt as if it had stopped and I grew still. I didn’t want to disturb the ambiance of the oh so sweet daffodils.
Alas I plucked myself of the bed of daffodils, with the cool gentle breeze only to discover I was lying in your bed, my face mottled into your great smelling shirt, underneath the ceiling fan. I had woken up.. I want to lie back down in your bed, where fields of daffodils await our company.

I laid in a bed of daffodils only to awake to a ceiling fan and the smell of some sort of deodorant or maybe perfume, or cologne. It was sweet. It was good. I am awake now, for about one whole day straight, wishing to sleep in the bed of daffodils. Oh the sweet daffodils, so golden.. “when the times were Golden”. I am no where near the place ..

I am no where near the bed of daffodils, but wishing I were. Missing it as if it were intrinsic to my being; feeling empty and incomplete without it. It isn’t part of my being, though. I live… eat, breath, drink, go on with life without this bed of daffodils.. but oh how I long to lay in it. It is too sweet; if you had laid where I laid, you would understand. So unfortunate that this bed is ephemeral, only withstanding underneath that ceiling fan.. that stupid, stupid ceiling fan. The fan that creeks, swaying back and forth as if it were trying to break free from its confinement to that top wall… “Stupid, stupid” top wall… “when the times were Golden.” Knowing the ephemerality breaks me down, yet makes me longing for more.