An inevitable effigy

The daffodils bloom at dawn
aloof to the summer air.
A knight digs
with deadened gallantry.
They are a deeply rooted accoutrement
to his self-righteous loathing.

He sublimates the shell,l finding
glass renewal; it is a menagerie of romance
self contained. Bottled emotion.
He is no longer lavish.

The daffodils, so yellow before,
are brown in envy of chivalrous rain.