Dandelion as Poet

Maybe if the Hindus are right, 
I’ll come back as a dandelion, 
Yellow and bright, close to the ground, 
Growing in a few days tall, solitary, 
The first of spring to discover 
Kinship with wind and breeze.

I’d like to be cheeky, shameless & yellow, 
Happily calling attention to myself as if 
Nature herself loved me most of all.

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