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by Fyn
Rated: E · Poetry · Biographical · #2248117
Instant transport. Every time. 4-9-2021
There just something
about yellow daffodils
in a cobalt blue vase.
They bring me back to long-ago days.
Golden bells ring memories
forward. They still make me smile.

Memories . . .

of running through a meadow
blooming with uncountable numbers
of daffodils, nodding and swaying in the breeze.
My grandmother always said it was
a sight like this that inspired
the waltz of the flowers.

of climbing up to my favorite branch
in the old maple tree, resting
on that bough, totally hidden,
reading my newest library book.

of helping my grandmother bake
oatmeal raisin cookies to take on
canoe adventures to the Little Island
where every trip was a journey
to an unknown land.

of early mornings sitting
at the end of the dock,
feet swinging, watching spirals of mist
while we breaded hooks to fish
for sunnies for breakfast.

of long, lazy evenings that stretched
to forever, drinking iced lemonade
watching the fireflies come out
to dance with the stars.

There just something
about yellow daffodils
in a cobalt blue vase.

They always bring me home.
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