The speaker is trying to recall a past romance and can't decide whether it was real. By calling it "an old movie," the poem suggests the memory has taken on the glow and distance of something staged: a hero, a heroine, cuts and takes, even a field of sunflowers that feels almost too pretty to be true. Yet the speaker keeps coming back to the same refrain, "I don't know," and the repetition makes the uncertainty feel like a loop the mind can't escape.
The mood is wistful and a little dreamy. There's no anger or clear regret here, just a soft confusion about what really happened and what has been embellished by time. The questions pile up without answers, and the final line, "May be it was," doesn't settle anything. It simply gives in. The speaker seems to accept that the past can't be checked, and that a memory might be half truth and half imagination. The plain, simple wording, along with the slightly off phrasing like "flied of sunflowers," gives the poem a quiet, hesitant, almost whispered tone.