A sunflower with a drop
of oily yellow so feeble
but one gets lost in the
happiness it brings
I haven't ever known
a happiness similar to this.
In the days of my childhood,
I used to sit in a room alone
with the vast pages of words and alphabet
I've learned them so well
Yet no matter how I arrange
I'm not convinced that I can
Properly express all of the things
I wish to say to you.
At sunset, when light fades in to darkness,
the gray that spreads around makes one ask,
'what if the moon wouldn't appear tonight?'
I've learned that the moon, it always appears.
But if you turn your back to it
You will miss the small things that it shines on
Like the sunflower that has been planted
from the coldest of all the winters
and from darkness of all the odds
have put against it in lack of sunshine
There, it waits.
Plenty in solitude and
protected by solace.
Ready for you to water it
and teach the warmth
of the world that you have provided,
so it can bloom under an autumn moon
From the perspective of a fictional character I've created, this was a poem drafted after the character, who was supposed to be infertile, found out she was pregnant. This was how she presented the news to her partner. The sunflower representing the child.
