Thursday, August 03, 2006

Yellow Flowers

No, it was not the Lake District,
and God knows, I’m no Wordsworth
But there they were
on the fringes
of a manicured lawn
waving their gaudy heads.

Yellow flowers, I called them,
Until Christa told me they’re daffodils
her favourite flower and she
leaned down to smell one.

Daffodils? They curl their scented lips,
Daffodils? They sing like mynahs.

truly love it was the nightingale and not the lark!

I huddled on a bench
under a sky of blue concentrate
and the wispy heat of an
almost summer day
and smelled my memories.

And thought
why be sad?
There is hope yet,
There are yellow flowers,
There are daffodils.

5 comments:

QuillDancer said...

Daffodils are wonderful -- and so is your tribute to them.

goldennib said...

Yes, the daffodils keep bloomimg. There is always hope. Beautiful.

Grey Shades said...

Attagirl! :) Nice to see you back in your good spirits!

QuillDancer said...

But there they were
on the fringes
of a manicured lawn
waving their gaudy heads.

I love it! I love it! I love it! I love it! Did I mention that I love it? Very visual.

Jenn said...

Quilly: Thanks. I thought it be well to lighten the rather dark and somber mood of my blog of late.

Nessa: In the words of Arwen Evenstar...:)

Grey: Yeah. Nice. Good spirits. Yeah.