Sunflowers

The sunflowers that once stood
so proud, and so tall
now droop as if
their heads are too heavy
for their green, sinewy body.

I look outside my window,
as the bees doze on
the gold-trimmed petals.
Pollinating, then resting
on Gaia’s feather-bed.
I trace the veins
on the curling, plump leaves.
I wonder, if life were a
season, how would I spend it?

I decide that I would spend it
half with my mother,
and half with my grandmother.
I’d go to every market
and every show. Listen
to her voice hum, like
a bird’s beak inches from
a lake. I’d eat her food
without complaint,

and nestle within her arms.
I’d spend my afternoons
knitting with her mother. We’d
watch the sunset over a glass
of diet coke. I’d walk the
entirety of her garden,
filled with daffodils
exuberant as the sun.
I’d watch her, the watering

can shaking slightly in her
wrinkled fist,
and feel as if I was looking
from a great height. Her face
is a sprawl of age spots.
Her eyes look upon each
petal with love. For a day,
for a season, I’d bloom yellow.
I’d bloom yellow all over.

By: Taylor Mullen

Taylor Mullen is a senior at Rowan University, who majors in Writing Arts. She writes about loss, and the mundanity of life. In her poetry, she explores how loss, both in a figurative and literal sense, changes a person. She won the 2024 Lorenzi Laureate award at Camden County College, for her poem “Melancholy.” In her free time, Taylor likes to curl up with a good book and strong cup of coffee. She enjoys playing with her senior dog Lily. Taylor’s most inspired by the work of Ada Limón and Sylvia Plath.