Arched back, stooped low,
the sunflower leans over the fence
to watch a boy pass by,
hand held tight in his mother’s.
Its face, once turned to the sun,
now tilts toward the dust,
heavy with the weight
of knowing.
Bright petals fall like tears
on the hardening earth,
a solemn, gold-rimmed clock
counting down the light.
The seeds drop —
dark cargo for the coming cold;
summer’s memory,
waiting for a smaller hand to find them.
Stephanie Hurley is a writer and English teacher based in Manawatū, New Zealand. She is passionate about all things creative; in particular, using writing to examine the world around her. Her work has been published in Tarot, Mote, Chortle, The Belladonna Comedy, Poetry Potion, and fiftywordstories.com.