Tristful Beauty

Sunflower

* In editing*

'Twas a golden summer from a silvery spring

At a golden noon lay a golden ring

Of soft amber petals with emerald stems

And ebony centers like shining gems.

But there at the end, at this sleepy hour

At the end of the circlet, grows a new-born sunflower.

His sleepy eyes look at the meadow around

At the peridot grass, and the bronze-colored ground.

He saw the diamond stream and sapphire sky

And there at the center a circle of gold

"It's lovely," he whispered, and a wanting took hold.

"I must reach it!" he cried, his heart filled with desire.

He wanted to touch the great Star of Fire.

"I must meet you," his small voice declared,

But the sun, who was wise, only despaired.

"Life is fleeting, little flower,

Each moment is another hour

Gone forever."

But the sunflower felt he must try,

So he stretched his roots for the baby blue sky.

He grew and he grew all summer long

Until he was tall and big and strong.

His petals were grand and his stem was tall

But each day he grew brought him closer to fall.

Some days the sun shone, giving him strength to go on

And some days the rain swallowed up the sun,

But each day he grew, growing higher and higher

Each day he got closer to his shining star of fire.

And in the morning and eves,

When he stretched out his leaves

He would look at the shining sun.

"I must meet you," he'd say, his voice strong in the light,

But the sun, who was wise, mourned his enduring fight.

"Life is fleeting, little flower,

And soon the weather will turn sour,

And you will be gone forever."

The wind turned cold

And the days got old

But the flower continued to climb

And time continued to fly.

The sky was so near, yet so far away

And the golden sun in the center remained.

The leaves were falling

And his petals drooping

But his race continued on,

And his stem grew evermore long.

His amber jewels were fading

And his black gem was shading.

But his heart continued to sing.

"I must meet you," he struggled to say

But the sun, who was wise, said nay.

"Life is fleeting, little flower

And soon your time will be over

For you can't live forever."

'Twas the last hour of the last golden day

And the meadow had faded to grey.

Only one flower remained

He who had worked and strained

And all to touch the sun;

He was the only one.

His roots were dying

His petals were flying

But still he soldiered on

Though his strength was nearly gone.

His last spurt of strength was spent on a reach afar

And he touched his fiery star.

Touched it with his dying breath.

"I have met you," he said with a grin

And the sun, who was wise, whispered sadly to him:

"Life is fleeting little flower,

And now your shining hour

In the sun is gone forever."

A great wind blew its chilly breath

And in that instant was the embrace of death.

The sunflower's petals all fell to the earth,

Faded and brown, without any worth.

His stem was crumbled and dry

Without the memory of life.

His leaves were withered and dead,

As the fell to their forever bed

With the ruby leaves of fall

In a crypt with grassy halls.

The sapphire sky had faded to grey

As if mourning the sunflower's death that day

And mourning the death of summer.

"He met me," said the sun with a sad, sad smile.

And he held in his hand an amber petal, a golden tactile.

"Life has left you, little flower,

But I shall think of you each hour

And remember you forever."