cornerstone

there sits the cornerstone.
in the summer,
its almost entirely swamped by weeds.
the autumn winds
see them off,
and golden leaves tumble over dry rock
like acrobats
in a dried-out circus.
the winter frost crackles over,
and melts in the icy midday sun –
but nobody campaigns.
springtime summons
her clearest skies,
breathing new warmth
into the frozen stone.
i wait for the first daisy,
and smile
when it sprouts.
i know the first daisy will come,
it always does.
but with you –
with you, i do not know.
yet still, i wait.