Don’t be afraid to be a poppy, in a field full of daffodils,
Be it their scorn or enchantment, it's all grist for the mill.
They laughed at Einstein, they also laughed at Bozo, the clown,
If you don’t blossom or break through the cracks, on you I’ll forever frown.
For when a poppy pushes up, through the dark earth to the spring,
It just knows in its heart that sunshine spring will bring.
It shows courage against odds and deeply values life,
And believes in miracles that are born of strife.
When Lady April brings the daffodils, the springing grasses, and warm April rains,
Does your Poppyness torment you, fill you with doubt and pain?
Would it reassure you if I pointed, I’ve been the odd man out,
Does that message assuage you, so you can stop whining and shout?
Whether to be a poppy or a daffodil, I have not given you the choice,
This whole piece is a dramatic monologue, where, my dear, you don’t have a voice!
PS: This poem was written as a response to this prompt on Scrittura and first published on Medium here.
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