Daffodil,
doubt the dawn
which stumbles, uninvited
through curtains drawn

Doubt the image of yourself
thread each spring through stiff lapel,
a symbol of survival, to spell away
encroaching winter

Doubt friends whose petals;
seemingly more delicate than those
that grace your yellowed skin,
bloom longer

Wards and bedsides may
doubt your rigid stalks;
beside limp spines and
over watered eyes,
they may doubt your hopeful talk

Doubt a cure,
to turn the flood of cascading pain -
the white water within your veins,
endure this sea of flesh,

Harness the sun,
bleach and bathe each hostile cell,
doubt it does more harm than good;
oh, dream of never ending night

Daffodil,
doubt that you should die,
please, cling unwavering
to a sense of life.