For her, the madness was a gentle caress, that could not be other than a crib.
There was the sunflower in that field, which enjoyed being caressed by the sun. His tanned skin was clear and beautiful, with a smile which gave electricity even at night. It had become a habit, to having the wake up yawning, a little for stretch out his arms and return to admire the light. The red heart of the sun also looked back and greeted him with a smile, that still gave off the scent of the life days from the limbs.
In one day of a late June, a different sound attracted him. He looked with curiosity at the end of the field of sunflowers and noticed a box, at least, it seemed so with four wheels (called machine, also). This was able to open up to compartments, so much so that place appeared behind a small and curious figure who with her grain hair was moving toward the field.
''Dad!'' yelled the little ''What are these?''
''Sunflowers.'' Says his father looking to her.
The sunflowers couldn't see them clearly, so that half closed his eyes in order to focus on the people who were there.
''How beautiful they are!''
The little girl rans across the field seeking of the most beautiful flower and the one who was called by her "father". He chased all the air out of fear that has hurt her in falling. The Sunflower it was able to see it more and more closely.Other flowers were whispering "It's a girl." And he had no idea of of that being and about what it was. So he kept watching... Till the little girl stoped in front of him.
"I want this, Dad." Said the little.
He had a small rounded face with blue eyes, just like the color of the sky. Her hair was a grain blond; Grain on the move. And she was energy, she was madness, she was strong. Was what he had never known. And he loved her from the first moment, that crazy little girl.
YOU ARE READING
Her Sunflower
General FictionFor a little girl who continues to avoid the meaning of her age. A story by Sara Linari (2017)