Aurora: My weekly prompts

Sunflower and the Sun

A storm was brewing near the horizon.
The Crimson hued ball of amber hidden behind her wrath.
But I refused to let her scare me.
For I have loved that ball of fire more than I have loved myself.
For I fear the eternal sorrow of desolation more than I fear her rage.
So I will let her destroy me if that's what it takes.
Without his crimson rays of hope
I refuse to wither away.

My yellow patels quiverred, trembled and shuddered.
A loud rumble,
The storm,
The thunder her voice
Breaking the silence of the juvenile evening sky.
Then came the rain, like a bruised old lover seeking vengeance.
Every droplet scarring me.
Bolts of Lightning danced around me,
teasing and mocking my very existence.
Her fury danced to the song of death.
This was war and she was here to consume me.
One by one my patels fell,
all was lost but one remained.
She can tear me apart all she wants,
for my spirit she can't break.

My yellow patels he adored so much were taken by her wrath.
I weep, I weep in this mellow trench,
But without his majestic rays of hope
I refuse to wither away.
A single petal is all that's left
to sing my melancholy tale.
I will squirm for one last lonesome night,
before our final embrace.

(This is my entry for the february has affection poetry contest on my interpretation of hope, the unsung love story of the sunflower and the sun)