Praying for the Daffodils

I remember the way

that the daffodils danced

back and forth,

back and forth

the day we met.

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I remember the field,

filled endlessly with the daffodils,

as we danced with them,

picking each flower one by one.

And with each daffodil we picked,

our smiles grew endlessly,

just as they did.

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I remember

when the sun dimmed

and the snow fell,

and the daffodils began to wither,

we hopelessly picked them

faster,

faster,

until each and every daffodil had died.

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Stalling there, we trembled,

aching in this field wrought by the cold,

until you, just like the daffodils,

fell to the snow and the cold,

and withered away,

taking with you every last flower we had picked.

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Alone and shivering,

here I sit,

praying, hoping

for the daffodils to return.

​

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