THE FINAL BOW

BY Dori Zdzieborski

We awaken to the glistening sun

Peering out from the tumultuous clouds

We reach up and bask in the glorious rays

Gently swaying, as Zephros caresses our tender leaves

But doubt not, our stalks are strong

2000 individuals unite

To form a federated fight

Thundering gales we will endure

For we are a whimsical fleur

Our color matters not

But a tragic tale we begot

Tucked away, hidden from view

A few tall ones will beckon those to come and see

Small and mighty, but forgotten not

But be warned, it can get quite hot

So under the canopy you can rest

And take a moment to let it all digest.

Capture us by lens, eye or brush

For our field of dreams is rather lush

The bees dance on our blackened eyes

We know that time will lead to our demise

So a piece of us they take

For when we will no longer be able to awake

A piece of us lives on

After our heavy heads can stand no more

The birds will spread our seeds about

So that our journey can start anew

Every sunflower must take a final bow

But no applause is necessary

For a good reason, is not why we are weary

A cure for all, we someday vow.