Like a Dandelion in the Wind

The leaves fell softly like dandelions floating in the wind;

The crinkling sound under my feet unmatched except by the cackling of flame.

Wintery winds gusted and pushed me back into remission

As the warmth left my fingertips – as the frigid air

Crept in, suddenly the addiction fleeted like a bad memory

You blot out.  All the brown, tinged orange – then violet sky with the tiny

Mechanized birds departing for home . . .

It seems all the troubles are flying east, too.

Flock of birds


The budding flowers of spring began, and, with them a new found Hope

As the spectators, the diminutive beings, stare in content bewilderment

With glossy eyes and a half smile;

They realize subconsciously that

Even in the seemingly empty spaces, the good still has time to grow


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