Daffodil Girl
© Surazeus
2019 02 01
Though her young mother died when she was born
she skips and sings with carefree joy to be
alive in sunshine of the turning world
though Death always follows her fleet footsteps.
Skipping along the river flashing bright,
she gathers daffodils in slender arms
then sells them for pennies at every door,
smiling with joy at flowers on windowsills.
When she comes running home in freezing rain
after gathering walnuts by the bright lake
she lies in bed with fever and sore throat,
sneezing as she shivers in ice moonlight.
Soft pale skin of her face turns gray as ash
and blue as the sky after thunderstorm,
so they fold her cold limp hands on her breast,
then place her in the coffin by the hearth.
The whole village passes through the small house,
weeping as they view her delicate face,
and remember sweet melodies she sang
while skipping with carefree joy in sunlight.
They bury her in the field among oaks,
shoveling dirt on wood lid of her coffin,
then return to strict routines of their lives
while wind whispers among the daffodils.
She wakes in the dark of the small wood box
and claws as she screams till her fingers bleed,
then she floats breathless on infinite sea
as Death embraces her to his cold heart.
© Surazeus
2019 02 01
Though her young mother died when she was born
she skips and sings with carefree joy to be
alive in sunshine of the turning world
though Death always follows her fleet footsteps.
Skipping along the river flashing bright,
she gathers daffodils in slender arms
then sells them for pennies at every door,
smiling with joy at flowers on windowsills.
When she comes running home in freezing rain
after gathering walnuts by the bright lake
she lies in bed with fever and sore throat,
sneezing as she shivers in ice moonlight.
Soft pale skin of her face turns gray as ash
and blue as the sky after thunderstorm,
so they fold her cold limp hands on her breast,
then place her in the coffin by the hearth.
The whole village passes through the small house,
weeping as they view her delicate face,
and remember sweet melodies she sang
while skipping with carefree joy in sunlight.
They bury her in the field among oaks,
shoveling dirt on wood lid of her coffin,
then return to strict routines of their lives
while wind whispers among the daffodils.
She wakes in the dark of the small wood box
and claws as she screams till her fingers bleed,
then she floats breathless on infinite sea
as Death embraces her to his cold heart.
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