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Dandelion
March 3, 2014
The dandelion was once cheery, yellow and bright.
All that is left is its skeleton over night.
It dies for our hopes and dreams
that are so far away, or so it seems.
I grasp the stem and rip it from the ground,
and wish for the things I have not yet found.
With a single breath I send the seeds away,
to grow a new dandelion on another day.
It is a chain you see,
Someone else will do the same as me.
© Jessica T., North Hills, CA
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