Swords of green
Piercing upwards through the membrane
Of mother earth
Swords that slip their sheaths
In cold black clods
Of winters reign
Then bud and bloom
Early trumpeters
Heralds of the spring
Sun’s raindrops
Splashed upwards
Bright yellow
Yellow lights
From long ago
Memories of child’s
Bright yellowed hopes
And unheralded possibilities
A past where it was hoped
The sword of green manhood
Would warm maternal mother’s whims
The daffodils of spring
Are bitter sweet
For they remind
Of hopes yellowed with disappointment
Of maternal love

That in winter’s reign remained.

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