Midsummer they shot up
Filled the box by the back door
Sprawled over the bushes
Refusing to be ignored

Every year he planted seeds
Seeds that sprouted and never more
Always admired
But never appreciated

Only this year, the year of his death
Did they break free from their hitches
Jubilantly elegant
As if a new life had blossomed

With these huge platter-like yellow flowers
I can always find the light
Shining even on the wariest of days
And separating themselves from the drear of night

I think,
He may be lost forever
But his color and soul with always be
Simply remembered,
In the tiny planter by the back door

For I do not need to stand upon
His cold, damp stone
Nor pass a church door
And remember a soul that lies below
When all I need to do
Is look outside my back window
And the sunflowers will brighten the darkness
He left in the deserts of my heart.