He came with a bunch of sunflowers,
He said they were for me.
Bright and chirpy, yellow in colour,
They smiled happily.
'Twas a bright, sunny morning,
But his eyes were teary.
He gave me a note, "To my darling"
And said he was sorry.
He said they'd crossed valleys and fields,
Rivers, meadows and mountains.
With fire in their eyes and hope in their heart,
They'd fought for victory and gain.
'Twas past a meadow of sunflowers,
When his wounds began to fail.
His face drained of life and colour,
Marked the end of our tale.
He said he'd looked at those sunflowers,
Calling out my name.
As he struggled for life in his last hour,
Dying for a warfare game.
He gave me the sunflowers an' looked at me,
"Preserve them till the end.
They're flowers of Love from a land of Death,
Sent by my immortal friend"
He left with a salute, strong and tall,
With a drop of tear in his eye.
As I cried for my lover at nightfall,
Not wanting to say goodbye.
-Reva, On War and Warriors, 2020