spare dirge
When I see dandelions sprout through the green
Amidst the rows of manicured lawns and shrubs,
I like to think some child's been blowing them.
But breezes don't disperse them far and wide
As children's breath does. You must have seen them
Dancing in the wind, a summer's day
After a rain. They drift upon the air
As laughter rises, and become a cloud
Of wishes whispered, falling from the sky.
Soon the sun's rays dry their fragile stems
And then they're gone, replaced by countless seeds,
Such dreams of youth to chase and hold so dear
You'd think the very essence of the heart took flight.
They scatter through the grass and find their home,
And they seem not to fade; though once they're blown
So far and wide, they never reunite:
You may find their children sprouting in the fields
Years afterward, holding their heads up high
Like little suns that warm the earth and sky.
But I was going to say when Time broke in
With all its cruel truths about the years,
I should prefer to have some child spread them
As they run through the fields and chase the light—
Some child too young to know the world's harsh ways,
Whose only care was what they found themselves,
Summer or winter, in the wild outdoors.
One by one they'd pluck their mother's blooms
And with a breath set free a thousand dreams,
Until not one remained, not one was left
For them to ponder. They'd learn all there was
To learn about the beauty of letting go
And so not keeping the world to themselves.
They'd always lift their eyes up to the sky,
Imagining the places they might go,
The dreams they'd chase, and even what they'd be.
Then they'd run forward, hearts alight, with hope,
Chasing their dreams down paths yet to be found.
heady matrix