for Mom on her birthday
I offer you this humble Sonnenblum',
ancient dispeller of autumn gloom.
It struggles in soil built without worms,
endures storms that bring no rain in tow,
and has yet to taste a drop of Miracle-Gro.
I implore you, despite all its warts,
take this tournesol into your heart.
Give it your love, if only out of pity,
until it blossoms into a thing of beauty.
Friends in moods sweet or sour
may remark, "How lame a flower."
Indeed, not everyone believes
in the spiritual beauty you perceive.
Today and going forward may you find
joy all around you, and in kind,
let your inner sunflower thrive
on the love that keeps us all alive.