She walked
the surface of
earth,
with her
clipped wings.
Flying was
now a distant
dream.
For what
she thought
were lovely clouds,
in the sky;
were raging
storms.
Some battles
she won,
and some
she could
have won,
only if she
knew that
sky also
had treacherous
attributes.
And now
she walks
the ground,
with tattered
wings which
no one can
mend.
I once
bought a
sunflower to
give it to
a girl,
she said
she liked it
and it was
her favourite.
The sun
was over
our heads
that day
in the sky.
The clouds
were nowhere
to be seen.
We held
hands like
they do
in the movies.
And walked
the lengths
of the park
which had
no sunflowers.
She had
to go
she said,
it was late.
And I complied,
foolishly.
She thanked
once more
for the sunflower
and told me
she liked it,
it was her favourite.
The sun,
that day
eventually set
upon the park
with no sunflowers.
With what
seemed an
overcast sky,
I received
a call on
my telephone.
It was her,
and that
moment,the
thundering clouds
did not
bother me.
She said,
she had
a good time,
but she
could not
meet me
anymore.
She said,
she liked
the sunflower,
but the rose
was
now her
favourite.
And then
the clouds
thundered
muting her
voice over
the phone.
It rained dogs,
that night
and it seemed
that the sun
would never
come up again.
And I never
bought any
girl a sunflower
since then.
vaguely formed 