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My Days Are Dancing Dandelions
August 20, 2023
My days are dancing dandelions
Scattered on the field in swirling constellations
Rippling through time like whispers
That remain forever sealed in unutterable silence.
Every day, the wind comes and blows away another one of them
Every day, I see my field growing emptier.
Somewhere out there, there is a green for each of us.
The wind whisks away a flower from each of them
Never skipping a day or forgetting.
I wonder if anyone has ever found a way
To make the wind stop blowing.
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