Sunday, 25 September 2011

The Sunflower

A poem I wrote a few months ago:

The Sunflower

We hold up and gaze at
The head as big as our own,
It scours the earth below,
We cradle it in child’s arms.

Let’s prise out seeds
Over the earth to watch
And listen to their flat sides bed down
In secret;
A molten dew-shower.

Here lies our treasure,
X marks the spot,
Let the place not be forgot.

Dreamily it asks why
We cut off its head –
“we were young”
We stammer,
“You seemed dead”;
We saw the plunder,
The wealth we hoped for;
We went for broke.

© Richard Townrow

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