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.