Sorrow

SORROW like a ceaseless rain
Beats upon my heart.
People twist and scream in pain, --
Dawn will find them still again;
This has neither wax nor wane,
Neither stop nor start.
People dress and go to town;
I sit in my chair.
All my thoughts are slow and brown:
Standing up or sitting down
Little matters, or what gown
Or what shoes I wear.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

When Daffodils Bloom

When my Daffodils Bloom

When my daffodils bloom
I remember my childhood
--carrying a cut blossom
wrapped in wet tissue and
a plastic baggy
for my teacher.
--posing for a picture in my mother's
daffodil bed
I remember the day after my dad died.
--two pots of daffodils
bought to comfort a
wounded spirit.

Every year since, a bittersweet reminder of days
that will never come again.
Each year the bitter eases
the sweet increases.

Each year I still
---carry a cut blossom to school
wrapped in a wet tissue and
a plastic baggy
for my students.

When my Daffodils bloom
I take time to remember
explaining to my students
that a daffodil is more than a flower
----it is a survivor
of a cold bitter winter
---it is the hope of a thawing
of our world, our emotions, our lives.

When my Daffodils bloom
I remember Spring.
and all is right in my world.

When my daffodils bloom
I can dream of tomorrow. ©jkb 2007