Image: “Sunflowers” — Painting By Ann Bagnall

In the aching arms of sorrow
drift softly in
for a place to fall

Like the sunflower seeds
I scattered
upon your grave
now blooming
flowers of pain

Their gentle faces
with the gold
of the sun
from whom
they cannot look away

A speck of dust
floats idly free
then hangs suspended
in the light
For minutes
in my imagination

The sunflowers
are serenading me
and their voices linger
in my heart
as I am fading
slowly into night

Like the scent
of once bright flowers

© Ann Bagnall

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