I shall pick you up, sweet Dandelion, your head is puffed and bursting with seeds, ready to be shared with the world, yet somehow removed from your unseen stalk with great speed. You lie here, pristine as can be, quietly admired by myself, and I can see your beauty as you present yourself without any sense of impropriety or desire to break apart if the wind shall determine you must leave. But no, I shall save you! Save you from a rolling fate, of bumbling about in the wind, I shall take you away with me, away! And will I cherish thee? Will I treasure your presence close to my heart? I realise you were born to make wishes, and that your form must be carefully torn apart. You are too hardy to be brought apart by my breath, you are too strong to be separated by the wind which I felt would cause you some duress, no, I will separate your spores with my strong fingertips and send them on their way to make more dandelions, more, more, more, bliss. © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. Image my own.
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