She was the summer's last sunflower,
Writing a letter to July,
A though one final correspondence,
Would make an easier goodbye,
But already she could feel them,
The approaching winds of change,
An autumn she would never see,
Both beautiful and strange,
As the heat's embrace got softer,
She watched the leaves all fall and settle,
And had one last look for love,
Within her few remaining petals,
But though the sun had made a promise,
She knew it was one that he forgot,
As her final petals fell to earth,
He loves me,
He loves me not.
-Erin Hanson
