I hear the yawn of daffodils rising from the gentle night

My eyes are still sleepy, my body still soft

As I step outside to see the light

 

If you’ve ever planted your feet

In the damp, dewy grass

To open your arms to the newly birthed sun

You’ll know in yourself how Adam felt

When he very soon realised

That Eve was the one

 

Now, I am no Adam

And I don’t have an Eve

But what I do have, no one would believe

For I have my memories

Of you and of me

 

The birds know my name

While the trees have the leaves

All I have are my memories

Of you and of me.

Clare Kinnaird, 2026.