Dirty Petals

She was summers last sunflower writing a letter to July,
As though one final correspondence would make an easier goodbye.
Already she could feel them, the approaching winds of change, an autumn she'd never see, both beautiful and strange.
As the heats embrace got softer,
She watched all the leaves fall and settle
She had one last look for love within her few remaining petals
Though the sun had made a promise she knew it was one that he forgot
As her final petals fell to the dirt,
He loves me
He loves me not.