Fading Glory

In the corner of the yard, it leans, half-crooked,

a sunflower, proud in its wilted state,

petals droop like memories, once golden,

now tinged with the colors of time’s passage.

The storm has passed, but remnants remain,

a bent head, whispering stories of bright days,

a relic of summer’s boldness, now faded,

its presence a question of beauty in decay,

a truth in the garden, where life sways,

between endings and the bittersweet return.