And then—there. Not at the front, not tall and proud. Half-hidden behind a broken fence post, leaning as if tired of waiting. One last sunflower. Its petals are frayed, its center a deep, wine-stained ring. But it is still yellow. Still turning toward the pale afternoon sun.
Searching for sunflower in— A season past its prime. A year you thought you’d lost. The quiet place inside you that never stopped believing in brightness. Searching for- sunflower in-
You walk the edge of the harvested rows, heads bowed and heavy. The sunflowers have turned their backs on the sky, faces darkened to bronze and brown. But you are not looking for the whole field. You are looking for one . And then—there
Here’s a short write-up based on your prompt “Searching for sunflower in—” One last sunflower