A DAFFODIL'S BEAUTY
(Sonnet)
By Joyce E. O’Neal
Posted
on 7/7/00
At ‘Whittler’s Den
I gaze at the splendor of Daffodils
And their mesmerizing
beauty,
With their golden trumpets of silent shrills
And fragrance of sweet potpourri.
I watch each one point
her face to the sun,
As her stem stands tall and erect.
Of a much finer flower, there is none.
She is flawless
without defect.
Yet abruptly, I turn my face away,
As my heart fills up with disdain.
I see in the sky, its color
now gray,
And my tears mingle with the rain.
…God made the Daffodil lovely indeed.
…But me, He chose
to make a weed.
Joyce E. O’Neal © 2000
