I see the bright of yellow, I see it stem from green
I see it glimmer in the first light of day
But sunflowers I do not see.

It might as well be a cloth hanging dry
or a dazzling pinwheel soaring high
To no fault of their own but mine,
I’m inescapably caught in this ravine of time

Oh, dear!
Is this how living without you is to be?
Tired of resisting and having fought,
Questioning what is for what is not.