A sunflower bends toward the fading sun,
its golden face heavy with songs
that never left my throat.
The ghost of the musical voice
rustles through the petals,
a lawyer’s case folded into the wind,
both carried away by clouds
that never waited for me.
The moon hurries across the sky,
reminding me of time’s relentless chase.
I walk beneath its silver light,
my hands full of duty,
my arms cradling the future of my children.
Their laughter is the only music
I can still compose,
their dreams the only case
I can still plead.
Yet the ghost lingers... she hums in the shadows,
her song unfinished,
her faith buried with the one
who once believed in me.
But even in haunting,
she is proof I dared to want,
that I reached for the stars
before the night grew too long.
And though the world may never hear my song,
