Radiant roses are like blood
That fill the heart with passion.
The flowers, all shaped from the bud,
Are never out of fashion.

Daffodills, when drenched in dew
Are tears of joy to see.
It reminds of me and you,
Or is it you and me?

Love does come in flowers
And those are just a few,
Because the Jasmine and Carnation
Are love flowers, too.

Watch the Venus Fly Trap
With her kiss of death,
And the lillies of the flat,
With their soft Sonnet.

Whistling winds and whispering wings
Accompany them all
From their ends to beginnings,
Summer, Spring and Fall.

Of the flowers, love the flowers
They are all of love.
They have come from higher powers
That issue from above.

Lilly's
     roses
all blushing
      naked among the
Begonias and daffodills.
    As much I love the peeling
skin red and white
      of the neighbor's
Sycamore.

The blank black monitor tosses my reflection back to me, but oh,
What it does not know!
I soar with falcons!
I digest sunlight and push it through me to make - the stuff of life!
Words do me no justice - they  have become more than strings of letters I wear round my neck -
Today I shed my clothing and emerge from twelve months' darkness!
Today, my tendons stretch and rejoice with the strings of violins!
The curvature of my lips: Mountains I will summit!
I shall pry open my jaw and let my warbling cry be heard by all creatures of the earth!
With novice and newfound delight I will skip between buttery daffodills! and exhale euphoria!
Fantastic felicity flutters on the wings of a painted lady, her proboscus curled like the toes of a child in the shrieking exhilaration of summery ocean waves rippling over glassy sand!
Streams cascade over jagged rocks and roar -

I
am
liberation
!

To  Daffodills

Faire Daffodills, we weep to see
You haste away so soon;
As yet the early - rising Sun
Has not attain'd his noone.
            Stay, stay,
Until the hasting day
                   Has run
But to the even- song:
And, having pray'd together,we
Will goe with you along.

We have short time to stay, as you,
We have as short a Spring;
As quick a growth to meet Decay,
As you or any thing.
       We die
As your hours do and drie
                       Away,
Like to the Summers raine,
Or as the pearles of morning dew
Ne'r to be found againe.

By Robert Herrick (1591-1674

Love from Mary XXXX

forgive the sun
for growing weeds in the garden
on the same light
used to bloom tulips
and daffodills,

forgive the soil
for the things which died in it,

forgive all the sins
carried on the rain
into the earth