I am the golden dandelion always open
with my gift of yellow
throbbing brightest in my final hour
before my flower folds briskly inwards
to spin herself behind closed doors
into silk white thread.
I am the blowball on a thinning stalk
slowly nodding yes.
In a basin of metamorphic rock
mauve clouds and water lilies
float on the surface of a loch.
A single waxy flower rises
from the waters to toast the sun.
Nearby, the sphagnum pastures roll,
a red bucket has keeled over, mouth wide,
tipsy with astonishment.
A garden carnival
The lily pops her buds,
tongues burnt caramel for the day.
Seedlets sporting teenage quiffs
jostle ready for flight.
The clematis, now drunk, tilt up the palm tree
in a slathering of pink and magenta.
The apple tree arcs,
her lichened bark travelling soundless seas.
Hélène Demetriades is a practising psychotherapist (and poet) living in South Devon. Her poetry can be found in a variety of journals and anthologies, including Envoi, Obsessed with Pipework, Poetry Shed, Ink, Sweat & Tears, Snakeskin, The Ofi Press, and Eunoia Review. She was highly commended by Patience Agbabi in Marsden The Poetry Village Competition 2019.