The Flowers of Spring

One drizzling winter’s day
I went to town and bought
spring-flowering bulbs.
In my mind’s eye I saw
almost a host of daffodils
a-dancing line-on-line,
so delicate and fine,
along my garden path.

Spring showers brought forth spring flowers,
and bulbs were sprouting green
in many garden beds:
jonquils and tulips and daffodils,
everywhere but here.
I dug mine up and found
they had rotted in the ground
beside the concrete path.

Well, better late than not, I thought,
so went to town again, and bought
expensive tulip bulbs, imports
from Holland, guaranteed to bloom.
A very pleasant sight
possessed my mind – a double bed
of tulips, gold and red,
along my garden path.

The early summer’s rain and warmth
brought forth green shoots.
Small bikes and tricycles
were pedaled up and down,
and often off, the garden path.
Children careered along each row,
leaving a few bedraggled blooms to grow
beside the concrete path.

But then I saw spring with my heart today:
A small girl, skipping, came my way.
Her Daddy’s smile was on her face,
her pretty dress dripped fresh-torn lace.
A bunch of yellow-gold I spied
behind her back. Oh! Woe betide!
Fresh daffodils. “For you!” she said.
(plucked from my neighbour’s flower-bed)