Daffodils

She doesn't mind the great length
or the girth of it.
Bushes without leaves
are not green as he kisses it.
The woods
are not deep without tree's
that are seen.
While the path that she walks
he chose in her dream.
Stopping she dropped what it was
that he picked.
A daffodil that bleeds white sap
if too hard it is picked.

by James McLain

Comments (18)

what time was it written in?
I LOVE THIS POEM SO MUCH.YOU ARE A TRUE POET.I MEAN ' THE BEST'
Ho-hum; this poem suffers from convention. Little wonder he went mad.
Ho-Hum. This poet is overwhelmed by convention. Little wonder he went mad.
..........so beautiful and so poetic.....this is truly a classic poem...
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