Daffodils: A poem by Grace Sitharaman


Wordsworth and his DAFFODILS,
Fills my senses and the joy it brings.
I am still in awe, what the siblings saw,
Dorothy and William, two centuries ago,
I still can imagine and can draw. 

History tells me about this fascination,
 Spring girl in yellow, pure bliss in March,
A sweet smelling quintessential lady,
She looks down like Narcissus- 
Oh, Daffodils! you satiate my thirst.

Enchanted by your  innocence,
Intrigued by your ego and arrogance,
You sway in playful effervescence,
Quizzing the admirer beyond reason,
Yet accused of self-image destruction? 

Sheets of yellow glow numb my eyes,
Fragrant, vibrant, Egotistic, Magnetic!
Pride of Wales, Wordsworth, and Oscar Wilde.
Bearer of honor, chivalry and wealth for legends,
Daffodils, continue to sway to fill my senses!