Who still believe in magic
Who quiver like a dream
Will comedy become tragic?
Will reaching hands be seen?
How hope is also painful
With room left in the heart
Who prays to faceless angels
When ending meets the start
Why joy is like a will-o-wisp
Why love’s a distant light
More time but no more patience
Up waiting every night
What sweeter than the aching
Of demure daffodils
Who give more than they’re taking
Who believe in magic still
Daffodils
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Lizzy Burnam 🐞 
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