Sunflowers: 4 Lines of Prose

Their heavy heads take up large spaces on the borders of the memories buried deep in my mind. They appear much like they did around the yellow fields of hay and green fields of corn that inhabited my grandfather's farm. I see them swaying on the gentle breezes of hot summer days as I rock my child softly to sleep while entertaining guests in their slow dance. The yellow petals and deep red-brown centers promised me a safety and tranquility that I did not achieve until long after my grandfather died, his lands passed to suburban developers, and the sunflowers fled to my fields of memories.

*** Daily Writing Practice ***