Daffodils
Dear lilies,
your bulb that spring up
are memories of hope and bliss
from flora in solitude.
(A prisoner acquit from confinement)
You rove lonely like the evening Moon
for two lover lurking privily at dark;
it is wonder you unclothe them
where bulbs of you are rooted.
Your varieties, I heard, are flossy
call it a “Rip of van winkle”
with many daisies taking it stands
to flourish in all spring.
The moment I realised how charming
you gloss the month of march
my fingers began sliding into extolment
caressing the faces of your rich flush
that blooms through the venetian sumac.
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