by Laura Pena

That summer she turned sixteen
her hair flowed down her back
shimmered in the afternoon light
she told everyone to call her Sunflower
and wore long cotton dresses
that clung to her skin in a storm

It’s a phase people said
she’ll grow out of it
but her parents worried
her older sisters ignored her
and her younger sisters
thought she walked on air

As if the laws of gravity
did not apply to her
she was a Sunflower
beautiful, open
trusting, nave
loving all people and things

Not even the growing baby
shot into her belly like a cannonball
by that angry, rebellious boy
would weigh her down
she was a Sunflower
Tall and Vibrant

Illya's Honey Literary Journal

Copyright by Dallas Poets Community. First Rights Reserved. All other rights revert to the authors.