Daisy chains

We could always go fishing, he said, wishing there was something else they could do, but fate had denied him the chance to have pride in an imagination that did not exist.

Stretching out
like a cat uncurling
flexing.
I used to do it if you can believe it

stretching out
like a flag unfurling
wrinkled,
I can do that.

Her voice
spreads like Marmite on Ryvita
rough
sounds like, that I’d like to meet her.

Oh God,
it’s Sunday,
I said,
but he already knew.

© 2019, John Smallshaw.