Day after day the sun never fails. The clouds might
be able to cover it, but they continue to be fluffy.
There might be a thousand drops, but only one storm.
It might be a rose, but also a thousand petals. There
might be one thousand persons, but also a thousand
souls.

One thousand souls and none yours. What
happened to the fluffy clouds? Why does the storm
no longer have a thousand drops? How did the
rose die? When did you become another number?
Why did our friendship end?

This diary remembers the days, the start of times.
Times when you were only a seed, then the stem,
and finally the sunflower. I would have preferred
for you not to flourish, and for me to keep watering
you till the end.

But no, you flourished and allowed other hands to
harvest my work.

With hopes of a golden garden I keep planting
sunflowers. But clouds are not coming back, and
without clouds there will be no storm. Now roses
only have 999 petals. I wish for your soul back, but
what can be done where there no roots left?

The eternity that I cared for you, made me fall in
love and not want to dare harvest my work. The
biggest mistake, for other came by and plucked
you off.

Now that you no longer have water in your vase,
you will miss the care I used to give you. You will
miss the moments when your pollen gave me
allergies. And I, I will miss and lament the possibility
of loving a sunflower.