If i'm a sunflower You are my sun Your warmth & light enlightens me & Bestows energy to my soul When you rise up I always turn to see your face When you come to me in the morning I really start growing,my darling When you come to me in the noon Floating,tossing & dancing in front of you When your rays kiss me I bow down my head and shy When your brightness hugs me I happily move and bloom When your light shades By God my face fades When you hide behind the clouds My crying voice louds When you become sad I also feel so bad When in the evening you show red light Me turn pale,old & lose my sight When you go away to home My loneliness starts killing me When you say good bye I finally wither,fall & die
For tears that fall On hollow cheeks When the weeks feel like years And the years feel like weeks.
And you sit by a grave Where the roses grow But the rose that you seek Is buried below.
You have my heart Heavy with sorrow For the velvet rose With no tomorrow.
Absolutely over the moon (if a little shocked) to see that this piece made the daily. Thank you all so much for your comments - I promise to reply to you all individually at some point soon. It was an extremely emotional, difficult, but ultimately cathartic write. Dedicated to our wee Shane, who we will never forget ***
Write with intensity so great that if you held the page from a mountain's peak your words would be mistaken for stars
wow! I'm so honored to have been selected for the daily. I feel like there are far more deserving writers than I! Thank you everyone for reading my work and all the lovely comments. Please use the tags below to read some great works from great people :) -MB
If you're ever on the riverside where the sun beats your head you would see the old man selling hats of palm leaf but you care not to notice him having already smelled the sea and too keen to cross the river travel southward on the island till the saline wind scalds your eyes your skins itch to jump into the waves yet the man with the palm leaf hats would not cease to tell you how burning would be the sun on the sands and so badly you need to protect the head by parting bucks that mean nothing to you but a world to the mouths he feeds and before you stamp on him a final no she has one atop her hair beneath which her eyes flutter like butterflies her sun rouged cheeks untimely blush and two born anew lovers merrily head for the sea having bought romance for forty bucks.
