I step out... Between man made Amber street lamps
And natures midnight blue, still life.... crisp, dampness
Not a soul to hamper, mood nor thought.
Moments before witching hour... Solitude
...
Read full text
proud daffodils by day lift their faces to the light, especially liked the beginning of this poem
The hooded reference is a great simile. The sad comparison of hidden and outward beauty are what keeps us prisoners. Flowers are ephemeral, beauty fleeting, but we are sad and may carry it for a very long time but conceal our inner beauty. We done.
Yes.We may be unnoticed but the morning flowers allure us.You seem to have a special liking for daffodils as I do.I loved your thoughts and presentation. Thanks and best wishes.