The Birth Of The Daffodil Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

The sun looked at the Daffodil,
the weather was quite hot.
The wind had died and all was still,
the Daffodil was not
what you'd describe as exquisite
in every other way,
its roots were packed in chicken shit,
mulched in by rotten hay.
But since the sun is quite unsure
about its solar gender,
which means to say it's either pure
(would heaven please surrender
the real truth so we all know)
or mixed, or transvestite,
it favours flowers as they grow,
yet it comes out at night
to shine its rays on this small thing
and keep its petals cosy.
All through the seasons into Spring
and when it looks red-rosy,
the sun keeps fussing over it,
this special Daffodil,
they have a very closely -knit
relationship that will
go on for all eternity.
That's why, of all the flowers,
the only one (ask any bee)
with very special powers...

when Daphne met that fellow Dill
they did melt down in love,
the child was then named Daffo-Dill,
loved by the sun above.