Untitled Family Poem

Daffodils are blooming in our yard and they brought to mind a poem I found laying on the kitchen table many, many years ago by one in our family. It is written on oil stained yellow legal paper and now after many years of being tucked away it is torn, wrinkled and marred by many little tiny holes made by thumb tacks that I have used over the years to display it. I really love this poem. It has no title, only the date of 3/1989. Maybe you can think of a title.

Is man a yellow daffodil,
reborn again in spring?
Alive within the cycle.
Is eternity a ring?

Or, do we have a mortal soul?
One life, one bloom, no more;
no wisdom of the ages,
no heroes at the door.

Then having just one season
to meet our love and fate.
With just one time for living
what fool shall practice hate?

And, if like the daffodil
our spirit is born anew,
surrounded by an innocence
like flowers washed with dew.

Then all the kindred spirits
living in their time,
should build a legacy of peace
and help their brothers climb.

Surely, he who lives forever,
through war and peace and wind,
shall wish his world to be a place
where all are known as friend.