Sunflowers

I am a sunflower, I point towards the sun.

My partner? He's a fun one. All flower, no sun.

He's beautiful, yet so withered. 

He rarely has the strength to push towards the sky.

This makes me cry until night time, or when there's too many clouds in the sky.

He then chooses me.. he faces me.

Sometimes, I'm his sun. I cheer him up.

But, other times, he makes me bloom instead.

My favorite is when we get to bloom all the same.

He loves me, He loves me not

I don't mind either way- as long as I stay his sun.

I'm the light on his pedals, and every night I look forward to our encounters.

In the winters, we're bound together by our leaves, our pedals, and our soil below.

Sometimes though, I can't help but think about his past toils, who else he called "home"

How many other sunflowers did he turn to? 

How many suns, how few?

Am I his favorite? How long until I, too, am overdue?