August Blooms

I thought I saw a girl standing

in a field of sunflowers yesterday,

her amber hair tousled under the

glow of sunset and stardust.

She looked small.

Her arms were glued to her torso

but bent at the elbow, and her palms

stretched open to the sky as if awaiting

a gift from the dissipating clouds.

I came close enough to notice her eyes

were closed, and she just stood there.

Neither of us spoke, and the sunflowers

didn’t seem to mind the silence.

Leaves tickled the backs of my arms

and poked at my exposed calves. The stalks

whipped at her too, but she remained

in the calm of her meditative state.

The breeze picked up speed and I

could smell whiskey leaping off of

her tan skin. The scent of too many

nights spent alone, or few early

mornings still trying to wet her sultry

lips with no avail. I became sad for the

human standing before me. That

is what she was- human. And one

who knew the world as I did. It was

then that I understood her reason

for swaying like the August blooms in

solitude. By now the sun had made a remarkable

descent behind greying mountains, and

she became increasingly more beautiful

to me. We stood a minute longer, and just

before the light fully disappeared, she opened

jade eyes, and I couldn’t remember how I’d

gotten there in the first place.


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