Welcome Visitor: Login to the siteJoin the site

Dandelion .11

Poetry By: jessicanumber1

tried to write a poem from the perspective of someone who has passed on, looking on to a loved one.

Submitted:Oct 1, 2012    Reads: 4    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   

Wind pushed by a big rig,
Southbound, On the 101
Blows a dandelion apart
Into tiny floating, bits.
I send one of the bits
Off the roadway and down
Under the bridge to your town.
I want you to know I still exist.
I watch it,
From where I am
Travel to where you are.
Outside, in your garden
Wearing your baking apron
From your very first job
I was so proud of you
Such a proud mother
The tiny puff of white
Dances and floats
In the air far above your head
I send it a few feet lower.
It glides in the air past
Your rosemary and chives
And almost to the ground,
But I lift it back to eye level.
I tingle being this close to you
You've grown up so much since last
I wish you could understand
How close I always am.
The dandelion seed
The baby of the flower
My baby, my only child
I brush it by your cheek
Your head turns and you
Wipe your dirt-covered hands
Across your face
And then on the pocket of your jeans
I wish I you could hear me
Say, "Those are not napkins."
So I could hear you giggle
But the dandelion is all I've got.
I do my best to drift the seed
Past you a few more times
Before you finish watering
head into your home made home.


| Email this story Email this Poetry | Add to reading list


About | News | Contact | Your Account | TheNextBigWriter | Self Publishing | Advertise

© 2013 TheNextBigWriter, LLC. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Policy.