The Sunflower

As the sun the offending flower,
Who lavished of his brilliance grew bright
And winsome fanned fresh colors,
Coquetry of splendid petals,
At the lazy bea, in hope of seed,
Forsaking her creator for a buzz, the lucent
All, who, burnt by rage, then hid
Behind a shadow's furtive night,
And watched as, in blind agony,
She froze, her radiant stigma clothed,
Too shamed to bear the heavens' sight,
In pity at a form once dazzled
And bedazzling, whom with dainty
Tendrils he would kiss, first creeping
To the sloping axis' edge to peep
At sleeping frailty, finally in flagrant
Surge to fill a pliant globe
With triumph's day did too – so I
Yielding, also pitiful, bemused,
In this embrace of song, forgive you.