My Supporters

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Like an audience
they raised
their Luminous faces
Uniform yellows
In various places
On Hedgerows they lined up
Cheering me on
During the gruelling early months
Of spring
I ran
I progressed
They were a constant
A crowd
They marked my road
Either side I huffed past
Blooming banks
Blowing Trumpets
They watched
They grew
Just as I was
To a fighter
I was going further
They were turning to yellow

Till spring passed

A graveyard of flowers
Now line the streets
I run past
A stronger
Version of my self
But they wither
And I remember the gruelling months
When they would
A proud not cowardly yellow
A reminder of how
These seasons can fade
I look back on the
When the daff’s were my only
They glowed as I struggled
My standing ovation
Gone now.

With only the chaotic cheers of
To look forward to.
I miss
The regimented hedges
The whisperings of sunshine
The lines of beaming faces
I’m now on my own
An intermediate
With a newfound
self confidence
That can only carry me further.

Cheers now wait at the finish line.
Birds can’t fill the hedgerows
Daisy’s never stay in line
Except when chained
But I’m not that kind of procession
Butterfly’s are intermittent
And so
The relying relay had lost its
I’m alone.
Till next spring.

I’ll show them daffodils what a
Fighter I am then
And perhaps my ovation
Will be standing once again.

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