In dusk-lit fields where shadows lean,
The sunflowers bow, a sullen scene
Their golden heads in somber trance,
Charmed by the storm’s relentless dance.

They wear the rain like cloaks of night,
A lover’s touch both fierce and slight.
They ache beneath the tempest’s breath,
Bound to a beauty carved by death.

Roots entangled, darkly tied,
They crave the storm yet long to hide.
Bending close yet standing tall,
Bruised by the rain but enthralled by the fall.

When morning breaks, they tilt toward dawn,
But hold the night in petals drawn.
They shine by scars no sun can see
A love that’s forged in agony.