A single bloom is
shy, elusive, delicate.
A handful of blooms
Is romantic, intoxicating
and never to be duplicated.
The fragrance of daffodils
is the smell of springtime
as a child.
The first bloom discovered
a treasure beyond price.
The fragrance of daffodils
is the smell of my father,
one in his lapel,
portable sun going where
he went, making all smile.
The fragrance of daffodils
filled our home the night
he died. They bloomed early
that year. He went out and picked
all the blooms to save them
from a killing ice storm.
Every vase held daffodils.
Hundreds of them.
The fragrance of daffodils
is the smell of protection,
of a gentle soul
who could not bear that
one single bloom
would be lost.
The fragrance of daffodils
is the smell of love
and the smell spring
and the smell of a memory
that blooms always in my heart.
kanzen sakura 
Mar 20, 2014 @ 18:14:41
This is profound yet feels delicate and fragile. Sigh. Inspiring. 😉
Mar 20, 2014 @ 18:41:29
Thank you Tess. The picture in the pic is my Papa and me, me at 6. The teapot was my great grandmother’s. When I cam home from Philadelphia, as soon as when my mother called me, everywhere I looked where vases of the daffodils my papa had brought in from the cold. the house smelled of them. I can’t smell them to this day without thinking of him.
Mar 21, 2014 @ 11:05:43
I don’t wonder. Wow. A lovely memory and story. 🙂
Mar 20, 2014 @ 19:42:19
Lovely.
Mar 20, 2014 @ 22:37:13
So very perfect. Your papa sounds wonderful thank you for sharing this, Kanzen. The picture, the memories, the smells. Perfection.
I love daffydowndillys too and will think of you when I gather some in for the house. Mine aren’t nearly the hearty beauties as those lovely specimens in your picture. Those are just grand and the teapot is the perfect foil. Once again, perfection.
Mar 21, 2014 @ 01:10:33
I thought you would like the daffodils. They are descendants of very old bulbs brought from our home place and transplanted here. They are the flowers from my childhood and my mother, grandmother….and back. When you pick some, think of me and when you bury your nose in a bouquet if them, think if love. Papa was a sniper in WWII in the 3rd army under Patton. The experience turned the black hair of that gentle country boy white, but never dulled the sparkle of his sapphire blue eyes.
Mar 21, 2014 @ 15:21:10
Absolutely lovely. 🙂
Mar 21, 2014 @ 15:30:38
thank you!
Mar 22, 2014 @ 02:52:24
I saw. I liked. I recognise you in the distance. I promise I will write more later. But this was lovely.
Mar 23, 2014 @ 09:41:29
I was hoping you and Mrs. E would enjoy the picture, in and of itself. and if you like the poem, then I feel I like I hit it out of the park. A lovely spring day here, finally. This part of the east coast has been wrapped in rainysnowysleetyrainy cold weather for so long. I feel like at last my soul is starting to unthaw.
Mar 24, 2014 @ 08:48:11
This is lovely. I love daffodils for many reasons, one of which is their delightful fresh fragrance.
Mar 24, 2014 @ 10:35:36
Thank you! Not many folks talk about the fragrance of daffodils – usually roses or such. But your nose can definitely pick up and enjoy the fragrance. When you have a group of them together in a vase, they truly do cause the area they are in to dance with fragrance. Date: Mon, 24 Mar 2014 12:48:11 +0000 To: thspencer51@hotmail.com
Mar 24, 2014 @ 10:56:09
I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone else mention their fragrance. I smiled to myself that you appreciate it as well.
Mar 24, 2014 @ 11:47:00
And that is one of the reasons you are one of my fsvorites…a secret poet with a poetic sense of smell.
Mar 26, 2014 @ 19:50:07
Haven’t read the comments yet – wanted to be sure to say: Beautiful, touching, you wove lace around my heart by sharing memories of your Dad and daffodils. Thank you, Kanzen.
Mar 26, 2014 @ 20:09:44
The little pic is of him and I. Date: Wed, 26 Mar 2014 23:50:08 +0000 To: thspencer51@hotmail.com