October’s Sunflowers
What were once thriving faces
turned toward the sun, are now sad
and haggard mounds of regrets,
memories of how life should have been
lived while young.
The gardener with his shears cuts down
the dead lives and tosses them
in the fire. The plants try briefly
to resurrect as bright lights but fail and turn
to smoke, finally, ashes.
Any chance to make right
the wrongs of life passes to seed.
Future plants don’t abide by ashes
until genetics tells them they must.
Cycle repeats until.
I like the analogy of no future plant bears parents’ ashes. Until far into the future, in generations to come.
sunflowers are my favorite this is bittersweet ❤️
A sad, sad core but finely laid language, sir. As a garden designer, etc. I speed to such poems, but think this is the first about sunflowers in the past recent years – so sad to read of their casually tossed passing. That said, they are flung into death – but could have created even more if kept and used. Their tale might have begun a masterpiece had they and your words continued. Along with Fia, would add that not only is the analogy on form, your work has style to the brim. Many thanks for sharing.