The sun looked at the Daffodil, <br />the weather was quite hot. <br />The wind had died and all was still, <br />the Daffodil was not <br />what you'd describe as exquisite <br />in every other way, <br />its roots were packed in chicken shit, <br />mulched in by rotten hay. <br />But since the sun is quite unsure <br />about its solar gender, <br />which means to say it's either pure <br />(would heaven please surrender <br />the real truth so we all know) <br />or mixed, or transvestite, <br />it favours flowers as they grow, <br />yet it comes out at night <br />to shine its rays on this small thing <br />and keep its petals cosy. <br />All through the seasons into Spring <br />and when it looks red-rosy, <br />the sun keeps fussing over it, <br />this special Daffodil, <br />they have a very closely -knit <br />relationship that will <br />go on for all eternity. <br />That's why, of all the flowers, <br />the only one (ask any bee) <br />with very special powers... <br /> <br />when Daphne met that fellow Dill <br />they did melt down in love, <br />the child was then named Daffo-Dill, <br />loved by the sun above.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-birth-of-the-daffodil/
