Daffodils

How refreshing it is, the morning breeze
Dancing, it does, around the daffodils.
Lifting up the dull white carpet, gently
To unfold, under it, a golden field.

Oh! How cruel it is, the mid-noon sun,
Aimlessly shoots boiling shinning arrows
That strike and make the prairie "steak" well done,
And you can see the rich gold juice flows.

To the very far away horizon,
To the West night sky covered in darkness.
Where "sunlight", the prairie painfully moans
Where the light hero strikes the night empress.

And through those wounds, twinkle the starlight fills
To knit white blanket for the daffodils.

JakeCross~ Bao~