Would you pluck the yellow Daffodils from my hair,
And plant them in the ground for next Spring?
Would you water them with your love
And tend to them with your kisses?
Or would you brush them out
And fold them with your anger?
Bending their petals beyond repair,
Leaving them to die on your uncared for earth.
Maybe I will never give you that chance,
For Daffodils are precious to me.
And maybe they are better left untouched.
