The Dandelions of Life

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Dandelions; a metaphor of ilusions and dreams we have.

Submitted: August 28, 2012

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Submitted: August 28, 2012





I watched it fly in spirals with the wind,
like a wayfaring star through the mist.
The last train the noon brought was gone,
and my eyes followed the seed until it hit the floor.

I watched it bloom in front of my feet,
between itchy grass on a tares field.
I was its shade when the sun was targeting straight,
and its company when the dawn was running late.

The stem emerged from the dirt;
my dandelion grew neat and straight.
My watered pupils narrowed with a smile,
and my knees knelt as the sun rays touched the ground.

My fingertips clasped to pick it up,
and cleaved the green stem in half.
I admired my white flower as I stood up,
but felt the blustering wind approaching, like a ghost.

And I witnessed; it was torn apart,
like an epidemic hunting the crowd.
But the seeds crowned me,
through the railroads of the air,
as they made room over my hair.

With those, I grew more dreams...
and spread them all over my land.
My allusions of delusions were boons;
and sometimes, I blow them away,
in the dusk of the night.

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