In a land where daffodils boldly sway, On St. David's Day, bright and gay, Dorothy walks with gentle grace, Her sister's spirit in every place. Amidst the blooms, whispers of lore, Poetry lingers, a friend to explore. With faith as a beacon, guiding the way, She haunts the verses I read today. A reader finds solace on the page, As words of old meet wisdom's age. In fields of yellow, through time and space, Dorothy endures with a quiet embrace.