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A whisper of warmth in golden air,
The sunflower sways with a knowing stare.
Its scent—soft earth, bright days anew,
A breath of hope in morning’s dew.
Not perfume, nor cloying grace,
But quiet strength in open space.
Like ink that stains but never fades,
Its soul inscribed in golden blades.
The writer’s way—a sunflower’s art,
Turning toward light, with open heart.
No fleeting bloom, no fear of flight,
But roots that hold, and words that rise.
In every sun-drenched petal’s hue,
A promise bold yet softly true.
A story spun in golden threads,
Where dreams take root and light embeds.
Through weary hands and midnight’s toll,
The scent remains—a steadfast soul.
Not bound by time nor fleeting bright,
But growing still, in love with light.
~ €mpêråtrïzV
~ Copyright ©EmperatrizV @Sunflower for Emily, 16 May 2025 - All Rights Reserved
