Daffodils are a promise
I tell myself
as I cross the threshold
of what I don't know
but it's not a promise
from a dead long poet
with an aptly alliterated
name. They're
not a promise from windy skies or
stolen breath or words and
empty nothings that don't count
as promises because they're broken
before they're spoken.
But daffodils
are a promise
I tell myself
as I cross the threshold
into morning.
3/27/10
I enjoy a poem with a poetic ending that twists my expectations and leaves me aware of that part of myself that loves to connect with people through writing.
ReplyDeleteI have no true idea what "morning" means here, but it feels utterly familiar and wonderful.
Nice.
Thank you so much for reading and commenting! I'm glad you enjoyed the poem and the ending. I am also a fan of twist endings, and I love it when authors and poets do it to me.
ReplyDeleteI really like this. I've read it over several times and I like it more every time. :) Stopping over from Glynn's place!
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for reading and commenting! I'm so glad you enjoyed the poem, and that it keeps getting better. That's always my goal as a poet and a writer. :) Glad you found me!
ReplyDelete