Beneath the pastel blue sky, amongst the simmering golden of sunlight,

in the haze and heat of summer morn,

They grow.

And when winter winds bruise the clouds grey, when the time has come,

In the hush; in the chilled arms of those gusts,they fly away and let go.

But sometimes, and we can never know why,

They are taken in the youth of their first autumn or spring.


They speak of something dark, that slithered into your stem and ripped you apart,

and your crinkled green leaves, withered like a weakened childs limbs-

Could only brush against theirs before you fell apart.

You drooped, and were then promptly snatched up from the soil in the clasp of some unseen hand,

I hope it carried you gently.

You were gone before they could see you fully blossom,

And before we seeds could see you at all,

So I can only imagine how fiercly bright your petals burned when they were caught in the light of the day,

And how your tangled roots lay entwined in the earth, steadfast and strong, for as long as they could,

And the beauty you brought to that grassy hillside.

And I can only imagine how much it aches to have at least known you in that long ago summer,

Because all I can find is that frozen ground where you once stood.

And when I dig to find the warmth of your memory the frost there bites, and tears fall like raindrops from above and settle like glimmering beads of dew.

So I do not dig often.

But I am forever glad, that although I could never be with you from bud to bloom, the sweet perfume of you lingers in the air we breath.

And I wish you could have grown tall enough to poke the sky, and sow your own seeds,

But I know as we all journey together through the seasons, you await us in that endless July.

And it is there I will finally get to see you, towering up high with us.

So until then, my dear, I will see you in every Sunflower along the way.