For today’s prompt I thought it might be interesting to write a quick story from two perspectives- the same character’s POV but once with a heart full of pleasure and once without daffodils.
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.William Wordsworth
I know that’s not a picture of a daffodil but then again the point of this post isn’t really flowers at all but rather what we choose to remember. I overheard (?!) a conversation on Facebook yesterday that mentioned daffodils gifted over twenty years ago and how beautiful they were and it got me thinking about how flowers long gone can still add color to a memory. And Wordsworth’s daffodils? They live on too.
Update: In the three weeks since I posted this the daffodils have started to bloom here. It is wonderful to have a tangible sign of spring and it is bittersweet. Daffodils, almost all flowers really, remind me of my mother. This is the first time I’ve seen the flowers bloom without her. It was an unexpectedly mild afternoon so I took Mom’s camera out and shot the pictures I’ve attached. Joy, sorrow, spectacularly uncertain spring time clouds, it’s all a big jumble. Even though the daffodils made me cry today I’m still glad they are here.
As always, about five hundred words (though I won’t squeal on you if you write more). You can use the poem as a starting point for inspiration or, if you want to get wacky, you can use the following three things as a place to start: a red shoe, fuzzy caterpillars, and a clown.
I’ll post what I write in the comments and you can too!