There is a Poem in a Sunflower
writer's block or not?
While traipsing on the dunes
by the beach, sea air leaving
salty kisses on my skin,
I saw a sunflower
growing straight out of the sand.
Intrigued that it could grow
in such seemingly adverse
conditions, I picked it
and brought it inside
to gift it with precious water
And the glass embrace of a vase.
But I laid it on the couch
and forgot about it
in the blur of my day
and it promptly
shriveled and died,
Its dehydrated corpse
Protectively curled in on itself
The first thing that I saw when
I opened my sleep-ridden eyes
And only then did my pupils bloom
In belated remembrance and regret.
And I know there is a poem in there somewhere
But for the life of me I can’t find it.
About the Creator
R.C. Taylor
I write to invoke, to process, to honor, to resurrect, and—sometimes—to grieve but, above all, I write to be free.
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