Forgotten Corner

A squirrel scurries down the slope Gathering sunflowers, full of hope This is my backyard, young and alive Into the green carpet, I dive The grass is coated, wet with dew Tickling my toes as I enjoy the view Sweet, soft and subtle scent Whiff from the sunflowers when you bend As the day draws its curtain close Night falls and starts its show The birds' last notes echo and fade away Crickets chirp and sunflowers sway Flaunt their golden, shiny petals The wind makes the leaves rustle At last, the sunflowers bow their heads As children are snugly settled in their beds Taste, the fresh air of the past, Now, only stale and vast The sunflowers have wilted and withered The wicked weeds have fought and conquered A squirrel scurries down the slope, Escaping from weeds, in fear, it gropes, This is my backyard, deserted and desolate, Silently trembling, awaiting its fate - The squirrel trips, tumbles and falls Flat.