Who else could love a sunflower petal when it is dead and dry
As it moves from its gentle yellows to an unremarkable fade
Brittle and devoid of the richness that once lit up hearts
I hold these petals captive in my diary filled with morbid poetry
If you have ever read my diary, pray let me know
For then you shall be one last person I would wish to see
I have forever appeared brightly yellow in my deeds and words
Inside I have always remained wilted and dry like these petals
Unlike the sunflowers I have nothing worth of value for anyone
Except a few words of kindness and sometimes a hug
I cherish this sunflower I had offered someone once in love
Only to have been put aside and forgotten on a park bench
I often look at these and wonder why it like me was left behind
For it had not asked to be loved, unlike me
When I sat on the bench next to this flower ignored or chance forgotten
I waited to give it company in hopes of your return to reclaim us
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