Daffodil

Going by a different name which none associate

Lost unto translation; a myth you shall never be.

In the springtime, you show out always easy to see

You look like an exploded trumpet; still beautiful.

Yellow and eye-catching a flower grown like a weed.

Growing almost anywhere there is no need for seed,

But it’s almost winter now I miss your light of late.

I count the days till spring where you shall be bountiful.

Where as I drive along life’s never ending highway,

I can look out my window and there I’ll see and say,

“Look at all the daffodils dear I’m glad they’re back now.”

But my dear wife doesn’t much appreciate your way;

She’s a fan of flowers but not you; I fear she’ll say,

“Those awful yellow flowers?! Really?! You like them?! But how?!”