Pity the poor sunflower
On the overcast days,
What soul-vibrating power
Will hold its wanting gaze?
I know its struggle well
Rooted in this limp place
Of my own coldest hell
Adrift of your gold grace…
teadoubleyousea
Pity the poor sunflower
On the overcast days,
What soul-vibrating power
Will hold its wanting gaze?
I know its struggle well
Rooted in this limp place
Of my own coldest hell
Adrift of your gold grace…
At last, one I can understand… and it rhymes
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