by Dean Thomas21 Oct 2017
I might walk this mighty hill filled with heavy grass that'll dance and point to flowers swaying pointing the way to broken blue Sky's, the air filled with bees busy that seem to nurse every daffodil, gently leaving for the next singing flower under this fast moving spring sky, the daffodils dance on yellow hill brightly swaying back and forth, waiting for the Sun's kiss as clouds paint and draw pictures in our minds leaving our imagination warm like new spring sun,
watching the flowers sway in gentle wind still pointing to broken blue Sky's with bee's busy flying still to every daffodil the flower's wait for the passing dark clouds that cast the shadows hiding rain from yellow hill,
daffodils wave and sway singing for rain but with no avail the clouds are late chasing winter away,
blue sky to every flower cup that is open wanting to drink the warm spring rain, but with no avail their song is not heard by busy clouds chasing winter away, I look and gaze at daffodils lined in rows protecting the glistening stream like rolling diamonds falling from yellow hill, the clouds are chasing the ice of winter that dare not stay, Spring is here yellow daffodils sing and wait on yellow hill where happy bees sing the song of spring.