Transformation (Poetry)

I took your image from a hedge — the edge of road —
maybe a shallow ditch —
the time and place is lost in summers past —
I can’t remember which it was but only this —
you had a perfect head — symmetrical —
and glowing white — throwing back the sun —
a bounce of all those beams absorbed
since the dawn you opened — split the bud
you came from and escaped into the air
unfurling petals as you went like skirts
held in while passing through a narrow doorway
and now you shine fresh as a new dancer
recently arrived and ready for the waltz.

I caught you mid-sway — face turned to the music
of the breeze — its rustling roundelay —
the shutter paused you — held you like a beau
enamoured of your dazzle where the green leaves
fell back — allowed you grow on your slim neck
and let you nod as though aware
you have become the focus of one moment’s rapt attention.

Seasons pass as season do. That picture turned out not quite sharp — like memory the edges of you blur.
The effect is subtle — kind as visual flattery —
appealing soft — and so
I have filtered you through light and dark
the way another day would do —
your likeness perpetually saved —
the echo of an echo’s echo —
the shadow of a shade forever set —
your heart still shining through —
your simple shape kept intact —
gossamer-wrapped — embalmed
in perception’s artifice —
the layering of illusion —
the fending-off of death.

This version of you lingers
like a casual spirit caught
in a web of tranquilness —
the balance between shy and proud
that shifting weight determining
how favourites are picked.