Supposing that the droplets fall once more,

And the orange emblem shimmers once less,

Bluebirds will refuse to eagerly soar,

And incorrectly will the sights progress.

Once accompanied by friends: walks alone.

Feathers that bonded, all fallen apart.

Swallowed from the air are specks of a blue tone,

Flight far gone when puddles form at the heart.

Withering sunflowers mirror the sun,

When the nectar dries and the music fades.

The field feels flooded, the water’s a pun,

Written on paper that rustles with spades.

But perhaps the dragonfly will glitter

As the storm becomes a silent whisper.