Daffodil’s Will


This beautiful daffodil
I picked only two days ago
lays on the desk
drowning
in those uncertain thoughts.

Asking itself,
"Am I still pretty?"
wondering when
I'll throw it away
and deem it to be worthless.

I have to ask,
"Why does it matter?"
but it doesn't know
and neither do I.
If only one of us had the answer,
but we don't.

No, we just go on
dreaming
about the endless possibilities
of what may instead of what will,
so I say farewell to this withering daffodil.

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