Scorched

The hills, the dark shadows,
The flaming ball of fire lights the valleys,
Making everything scream and cry in its path.
The sunflower is like a broken-winged bird,
Unable to escape the rays of the fiery, fierce sphere.

The sunflower's body is being contorted,
Being forced to look at the sun in horror and pain.
The sunflower is tortured,
As if it has been betrayed by its best friend. 

The blinding light of this blazing heat is sinking into the valleys, creating a darkness behind it. 
Turning the sunflower's sorrow into excruciating pain. 
The flower hits the ground, lifeless.

The sunflower falls into a deep slumber, 
Only dreaming of the life it should have had.

The sunflower’s body is snapped,
Wounded. Scared.
Just like earth. 
The sunflower is dead. 

Nothing but sadness is upon the meadow now.