The Sunflower

Day after day the sun never fails. The clouds might be able to cover it, but they continue to be fluffy. There might be a thousand drops, but only one storm. It might be a rose, but also a thousand petals. There might be one thousand persons, but also a thousand souls. One thousand souls and none yours. What happened to the fluffy clouds? Why does the storm no longer have a thousand drops? How did the rose die? When did you become another number? Why did our friendship end? This diary remembers the days, the start of times. Times when you were only a seed, then the stem, and finally the sunflower. I would have preferred for you not to flourish, and for me to keep watering you till the end. But no, you flourished and allowed other hands to harvest my work. With hopes of a golden garden I keep planting sunflowers. But clouds are not coming back, and without clouds there will be no storm. Now roses only have 999 petals. I wish for your soul back, but what can be done where there no roots left? The eternity that I cared for you, made me fall in love and not want to dare harvest my work. The biggest mistake, for other came by and plucked you off. Now that you no longer have water in your vase, you will miss the care I used to give you. You will miss the moments when your pollen gave me allergies. And I, I will miss and lament the possibility of loving a sunflower.