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Sunflower MAG
The sun’s beaming rays burn my pale skin. Tomorrow, fresh freckles will dance on the pink flesh, like splatters of chocolate. Though the burn will sting, I am content to lie in the brightness.
The golden color of sunflower petals drips like butter into my eyes, consuming my mind. The never-ending iridescent leaves remind me of the rustling bushes and trees that whisper at my windowsill at night, begging me to let them in, to shield them from the violent winds.
Everything in the universe attempts to hide from its problems or its source; the bushes and trees seek solace from the wind, flies buzz into my room to escape humidity, I run from my own worries. I fled to the sunflower fields to avoid school responsibilities. I was going to indulge in an adventure, but I didn’t find it in those fields. Instead, I found temporary enlightenment.
Somehow, in the grassy fields dotted with golden sunflower heads, I realized that outrunning problems is futile. The more you attempt to run from your troubles, the more they breed until you finally must confront them. I ran from school responsibilities – one of my problems – only to be newly challenged by the bursting heat of midday and boredom.
Lying in the sunflower field, I no longer want to evade my difficulties. I will face and conquer them head-on, and like the sunflowers thriving under the blazing sun, will grow because of it.
But for now, the solitude is nice.
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Favorite Quote:
"..though warm as summer it was fresh as spring." (Thomas Hardy) ("Far from the Madding crowd")