Every Moment Touches Poem by R. H. Peat

Every Moment Touches

The westward daisies remember the little boy;
he stands by the flaking side of the tan house
where the blistered paint peels in gray pain.
A coarse rippled-grain shows through
its flowing flesh under sloughed skin.

There the daisies lean in a breeze
where darkness releases a child's eye
as he whispers from a fevered moment.
His shadow lulls across their brittle stems
that lift like yellow-crowned galaxies.

The daisies stand by weather-worn boards
warped inside the boy's inflamed shadow.
The easy tree's broken leaf-shade
Dances on an anxious wall's forbidden hope; there
the daisies wilt and dry in hot summer's corridor