A gentle thought occurred to me
to fashion you a rosary
from sunflower blooms.
I know your love of summer’s spell,
your sorrow that the sounds and smells
cannot last longer, or forever.
The golden blossoms you could pray
on every fall and winter day
and so assauge your sadness.
Maybe God would bend the ear
to take note of your longings dear,
and let us live to live another.