my lovely one,
so my dandelion
always swaying to the rhythm of wind
so delicate, yet holding yourself whole
hard love, gentle touch, still you slip away
you were meant to be adored from a distance
oh my dandelion, how mystical you are
you were made for wild skies
born to be held,
but too fragile for the ghost of touch
from early spring’s bloom to the hush of your final stage
your tiny little floating parachutes, too tired to chase
i have no vase for something like you
my lovely dandelion, fading into the years…
7/08/2025