Not your ordinary daffodil


Daffodils – those pretty yellow things that William Wordsworth wrote about:

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
This poem – seemingly innocuous – taught to kids in school, seems like its just a man’s musings over a field of pretty yellow flowers that he once came upon.  But to me, the Daffodils are memories – precious, fleeting memories – that have the power to either envelop me in darkness and despair, or bring me out of the darkness and plant a wistful smile on my face.
This blog is about my musings.
Welcome to my crazy world.
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