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Amid the scorching 'tober heat,

When toiling sweat smells bitter sweet,

A gust of wind comes sweeping by,

Where leaves of grass and blossom lie.

Their blades they sway; to sing a song

As if to say; come sing along

And in that chorus an infant cries

A sunflower stares with open eyes.

Her music, heavenly voice, was young

While yet in early youth, she sung

Of spirits roaming unconfined,

Of heavens, that the spirits find.

Her petals shone the sheen of gold,

You wouldn't believe if you were told,

That the blinding sun had shied and fled

In the nearest cloud that gave him shed.

And so began a pleasant day,

The sun would peek and hide away.

With every chance he stole a glance,

Her extraordinaire had made him dance.

It was then time for him to set,

He blushed pink and then crimson red.

The birds sang nocturne as if to tease,

The sun was shy, his state; unease.

At ebb, they stood face to face.

The sun, the flower; they exchanged grace.

Atlast the sun had found his place,

T'was in the sunflower's warm embrace.