The field of sunflowers
spent the week
looking for the sun
The Sun that week
was resting
behind some very fluffy clouds
Those at the front of the field
wondered where their source of sunlight
had gone
Those in the middle
jostled about, in the hope
they’d catch a ray or two
A couple turned east, a few turned west
where the sun was hiding
was anyone’s guess
Till the smallest of the sunflowers
piped up from the line
“He’s standing behind us
Turn Round….All is Fine!”
The Inkwell 
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