sea of sunflowers

I look across a sea of

sunflowers

in an open, sun-dipped field.

Where the honey-soaked petals glow

like untouched gold

and every leaf is emerald-spun.

And the summer-sweet potential

amongst each of the towering --unreachable--

hand-picked flowers

has me feeling smaller than ever .

For to leave me abandoned

in a faultless sunset meadow

- - I don't belong - -

is to leave me examining the

star-dropped beauty of every

sunflower

while I forget myself.

For how can I compare to something so perfect as the sunflowers I'm drowning in?