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Evi

Her character is bubbly; expands
like a gas
to fill all available space.

The face that beams, the voice that booms
like God to my Solomon
are hers, and smiles
infectious as catarrh.

I am afraid. Too big
she hypnotises me, and grins,
and makes me centre stage.

And foreign!
She could hug me now
or bring me gifts, or childlike
as my strained brain patters
ask a simple question.

I am, however, just one daisy
in a garden of friendship.
Even now she turns
and I am solarised no longer.