Life Goes On.

Just look at the daffodils,

the sorry sight of them,

heads shrivelled, trumpets crumpled,

plain green stems lingering on,

charmless, an embarrassment.

This looks very like defeat,

doomed battalions, banners in tatters,

the days of glory, the golden fanfare,

the valiant stand against winds and rains,

all come to waste and wreckage.

Sadder still their vanquished state

in this air of celebration,

all life alert to the joys of May

which the poor departing daffodils

will never know, not this or any year,

ever come and gone before the feast.

It is time to put harsh days behind,

time for change, for carnival, for colour,

time for excess and mischievous play.

All flowers now are naughty,

gleeful, impish, eager to entwine.

How they yearn, in their own mute way,

to frolic, for silliness, for fun.

See the lilac,

how it wags its lilac tongues.