“Dandelion”

..I picked a dandelion
in the park,
alongside the busy street.
a perfect little orb of potential.
I thought about blowing,
scattering the seeds around,
stepping through the tiny white clouds
so that some of its magic might seep into me.
picking up the basket of these tiny dreams...
and spreading it out into this blue sphere...
But I wanted to wait,
for the
right moment.
I strolled
through the tall trees lined perfectly in the park..
into the canopy of autumnal oaks,
past the blooming magnolias,
The light was just idyllic,
late evening sun bursts peeping through the emerald life,
it was quiet,
It was calm..
it was perfect...
Just then, I heard noises
An elderly couple walking across the street,
A mother bringing her son in the park to play,
Someone playing the piano at a distance,
The faint tunes,
an unusual peace to my heart…
I recalled memories of...
The girl I once was,
the lost spark of my eyes,
The smell of freshly painted dreams,
Hanging in thin air,
Some buried..
Deep..
Into the labryinth of my heart.
clutching the dandelion tightly,
I put it in my pocket,
Thinking…
'later'.
Later came,
and I found it,
forgotten,
crushed under a week’s worth of my pain and guilt,
Yet fresh and lively,
As 'hope'.
It had been a long, drizzly workday,
Which was slowly melting into an evening gloom..
But,
even though the light in the streets was not perfect,
and I was tired,
surrounded by the everchanging mirrors and masks..
A feeling of losing myself...
I sighed heavily,
Holding on..
I breathed in,
and blew...
