Dear Sunflower

Sunflower

I’m not a sunflower guy,

what else could I do?

By chance it was a good thing,

By choice it aged pretty soon,

Not a botanist or a gardener what should I do?

I want what I want but I want what you want for you too,

A bit confusing like picking a flower from its environment when you don’t even know what to do.

What must be done so I can see this flower bloom,

Watering such a fragile thing in hopes it doesn’t drown,

Giving it the time of day so when there is not sun out it doesn’t drop its head down,

Trimming the fine edges at just the right angle to promote growth,

Trying to trust the process it seems all those science classes failed us both.

Not entirely they just skipped over so many important parts,

Everything was about the book,

They never taught us how to truly nurture,

Now we play doctor thinking we have the precision it’s all in our head,

Playing with life, gentle as the softest thread

The potential of fatality we are the widow,

Thinking its fun to watch whats caught in our web.

Forget a romance, the smell of danger is a far more intoxicating aroma.

Trapped by the benefits of your own doubts,

You let the knives sink back in to the places that have been stabbed once before,

In hopes that they are meant to stop the bleeding,

Stop asking for signs when you have no intentions of reading,

Is there a purpose or does this flower die,

Why nurture when the ends are inevitable,

Does the flower prefer the birds or does it just want to fly

Does the flower love the bees or does it know they keep each other alive,

The home of the flower just exactly where it grows,

The home of the birds so high up in places some never imagined they would go,

The home of the bees a hive the place where none are truly alone,

Where is that place of mind where my heart can feel at home,

Dear Sunflower,

I don't know how to hold you,

I wish I knew how to help you bloom,

I wish you could write,

So we could illogically speak,

If you wrote a “Dear Rose”

That would make my heart weak,

I found you down the river,

Sometimes I think I should've let you go,

Most days I tell myself it might work out,

On the other days I accept that I may never know,

Dear Sunflower, I am Rose.