Some days I lie beneath dreary skies
And hope feels like a lackluster lie;
A deception conspired to appease my despondent heart
As I search for meaning in this monotonous life.

Some nights I lie beneath dreary skies
And jealousy envy the sunflower for its intuition.
How it aligns with the sun by day,
And faces the east even in the darkest of nights,
With hopeful anticipation of the sun’s promised return,
And finds satisfaction at the gaze of its sight.

So when hope feels like a lackluster lie,
I remember
That even the sunflower faithfully waits.
For in the morning the sun still shines
Even if I can’t see the light
As I lie beneath dreary skies.