Daffodil (a story)

Everyone called her Daffy, but her real name was Daffodil. She was born in the spring of course, a bulb flowering from her mother's womb. Her skin was fair, almost transparent, and her newborn head was covered with light blonde hair. She was unexpected - no one remembered planting her in the fall. It was just lucky that the squirrels didn't find her. She had been planted down deep, far from the other bulbs. She was alone except for the birds and the bees that hovered over her cradle. Her mother had died while giving birth to her and her father was carried away by the wind. Her little lips were thirsty for milk, like spring rain. She opened them wide to catch it when it came. It made her veins pulse with new life. But no one remembered feeding her.

-  Penelope Cake