How I wish!

There's winter too, as I've come to learn,
And that there is a tributary or more for every confluence,
That the sun sets, that sunflowers wilt,
And that one day, the heart stops beating for-its-ever.

And yet, deep down, like heat from palms rubbed,
Like the fork that still knows the stream as one,
The frozen summer inside reminisces of the times gone by,
Living beyond, like the yellow of the dead sunflower.

Oh! how I wish I were a raft and not the river,
And that I were merely the sunflower and not the sun,
And how I wish I were merely a snowflake and not the winter,
So I can't see the fleeting, and die, not daily, but just once.