* In editing*
'Twas a golden summer from a silvery spring
At a golden noon lay a golden ring
Of soft amber petals with emerald stems
And ebony centers like shining gems.
But there at the end, at this sleepy hour
At the end of the circlet, grows a new-born sunflower.
His sleepy eyes look at the meadow around
At the peridot grass, and the bronze-colored ground.
He saw the diamond stream and sapphire sky
And there at the center a circle of gold
"It's lovely," he whispered, and a wanting took hold.
"I must reach it!" he cried, his heart filled with desire.
He wanted to touch the great Star of Fire.
"I must meet you," his small voice declared,
But the sun, who was wise, only despaired.
"Life is fleeting, little flower,
Each moment is another hour
Gone forever."
But the sunflower felt he must try,
So he stretched his roots for the baby blue sky.
He grew and he grew all summer long
Until he was tall and big and strong.
His petals were grand and his stem was tall
But each day he grew brought him closer to fall.
Some days the sun shone, giving him strength to go on
And some days the rain swallowed up the sun,
But each day he grew, growing higher and higher
Each day he got closer to his shining star of fire.
And in the morning and eves,
When he stretched out his leaves
He would look at the shining sun.
"I must meet you," he'd say, his voice strong in the light,
But the sun, who was wise, mourned his enduring fight.
"Life is fleeting, little flower,
And soon the weather will turn sour,
And you will be gone forever."
The wind turned cold
And the days got old
But the flower continued to climb
And time continued to fly.
The sky was so near, yet so far away
And the golden sun in the center remained.
The leaves were falling
And his petals drooping
But his race continued on,
And his stem grew evermore long.
His amber jewels were fading
And his black gem was shading.
But his heart continued to sing.
"I must meet you," he struggled to say
But the sun, who was wise, said nay.
"Life is fleeting, little flower
And soon your time will be over
For you can't live forever."
'Twas the last hour of the last golden day
And the meadow had faded to grey.
Only one flower remained
He who had worked and strained
And all to touch the sun;
He was the only one.
His roots were dying
His petals were flying
But still he soldiered on
Though his strength was nearly gone.
His last spurt of strength was spent on a reach afar
And he touched his fiery star.
Touched it with his dying breath.
"I have met you," he said with a grin
And the sun, who was wise, whispered sadly to him:
"Life is fleeting little flower,
And now your shining hour
In the sun is gone forever."
A great wind blew its chilly breath
And in that instant was the embrace of death.
The sunflower's petals all fell to the earth,
Faded and brown, without any worth.
His stem was crumbled and dry
Without the memory of life.
His leaves were withered and dead,
As the fell to their forever bed
With the ruby leaves of fall
In a crypt with grassy halls.
The sapphire sky had faded to grey
As if mourning the sunflower's death that day
And mourning the death of summer.
"He met me," said the sun with a sad, sad smile.
And he held in his hand an amber petal, a golden tactile.
"Life has left you, little flower,
But I shall think of you each hour
And remember you forever."
YOU ARE READING
Tristful Beauty
PoetryA few pretty poems, painted with moonlight and brushed with midnight tears.