Which is the bliss of solitude?

The games we played as children,
the stories we were told as children
and the places we lived in as children
had crows in them.
Perched in one for sorrow. Two for joy.

The poem we memorised as children
had daffodils in them and we’d never
seen one,
lest a field of them
on a summer’s day
and came home
to lie on a couch
to dream about them.

We live in a place today where there
are no crows but we passed a field
of daffodils on a bus.

The poems we memorised as children
had dreams in them to stand near
the daffodils and sing this to them.

The nightmares we have today
have crows in them
where one by one they flew
with our dreams with them.