There was a sunflower who all adored, A flower whose exuberance could not be ignored. With each little day she watched all the land Recording obersvations with amazing command.
The flower could craft with verse and with word, So inside every creature, that compassion stirred. She captivated all who felt her bright rays, And they'd listen to all of her stories for days.
They'd leave all refreshed from each recitation, But alone, she'd consider her days were damnation. Each petal, each stem, each deep-seeded root, Was hiding a darkness she worried would pollute.
Sunflowers, lovely though they may be, Reach for the sun with intensity To find the happiness everyone felt That they couldn't touch in the place that they dwelt.
The creatures of wild could come and go, And yes they would bring their troubles although, Still they could feel the sun's pure, great light While the sunflower despaired, try thought she might.
This wasn't anything that the others could see, As the flower kept shining, bright and lovely. So she'd greet the animals all with a smile, Thinking herself horrible all the while.
How could she give everyone such great feelings And still find herself in the dark, unappealing? If they knew, would they still come to hear all her tales? Would they think her a liar, concealing her ales?
Still the flower kept reaching, through morning and day, Hoping the sun could chase the darkness away. But not every day was clear or was bright, And not any day could escape dusk or night.
Each bit of light she eventually captured, She felt was a lie to the ones she enraptured, But the flower, as desperate and friendly as she, Was blind to the truth of the animals' glee.
Being rooted and stuck in a place full of shade Didn't sour the smile or story portrayed. Though not all of them understood what their company meant, They would visit the flower without discontent.
It wasn't her stories, nor her bright shine, It wasn't the need to uncover or refine. What drew all the animals to this one place Was the flower's own soul and unspeakable grace.
Though she couldn't look back and see what they saw, The skill of her kindness filled them with awe. Not everyone, flower or animal too, Could look on each day with acceptance anew.
Though hard and unyielding the clouds and the rain, The sunflower persisted, through fear and through pain. The sun couldn't give her the light all the time, So it came from inside, and it shone on sublime.
There was a sunflower who all adored, A flower whose spirit could not be ignored. The darkness she felt, they could not understand, But the world loved her still, and they'd tell you firsthand:
There's nothing at fault for a gloomy, dark day. The sunflower's still perfect, in every little way.
[Untitled]
A flower whose exuberance could not be ignored.
With each little day she watched all the land
Recording obersvations with amazing command.
The flower could craft with verse and with word,
So inside every creature, that compassion stirred.
She captivated all who felt her bright rays,
And they'd listen to all of her stories for days.
They'd leave all refreshed from each recitation,
But alone, she'd consider her days were damnation.
Each petal, each stem, each deep-seeded root,
Was hiding a darkness she worried would pollute.
Sunflowers, lovely though they may be,
Reach for the sun with intensity
To find the happiness everyone felt
That they couldn't touch in the place that they dwelt.
The creatures of wild could come and go,
And yes they would bring their troubles although,
Still they could feel the sun's pure, great light
While the sunflower despaired, try thought she might.
This wasn't anything that the others could see,
As the flower kept shining, bright and lovely.
So she'd greet the animals all with a smile,
Thinking herself horrible all the while.
How could she give everyone such great feelings
And still find herself in the dark, unappealing?
If they knew, would they still come to hear all her tales?
Would they think her a liar, concealing her ales?
Still the flower kept reaching, through morning and day,
Hoping the sun could chase the darkness away.
But not every day was clear or was bright,
And not any day could escape dusk or night.
Each bit of light she eventually captured,
She felt was a lie to the ones she enraptured,
But the flower, as desperate and friendly as she,
Was blind to the truth of the animals' glee.
Being rooted and stuck in a place full of shade
Didn't sour the smile or story portrayed.
Though not all of them understood what their company meant,
They would visit the flower without discontent.
It wasn't her stories, nor her bright shine,
It wasn't the need to uncover or refine.
What drew all the animals to this one place
Was the flower's own soul and unspeakable grace.
Though she couldn't look back and see what they saw,
The skill of her kindness filled them with awe.
Not everyone, flower or animal too,
Could look on each day with acceptance anew.
Though hard and unyielding the clouds and the rain,
The sunflower persisted, through fear and through pain.
The sun couldn't give her the light all the time,
So it came from inside, and it shone on sublime.
There was a sunflower who all adored,
A flower whose spirit could not be ignored.
The darkness she felt, they could not understand,
But the world loved her still, and they'd tell you firsthand:
There's nothing at fault for a gloomy, dark day.
The sunflower's still perfect, in every little way.