Dandelions, a Poem

As the wind starts to blow…translated…

the seeds, leaving the plant here, NOT my photo…

All Those Complex Days of Our Youthfulness

Will Become, Bundles of

Dreams that Took Flight with the Wind

So, our dreams are like those dandelion seeds, we’d, blown on them, and, they’d, scattered all over the world, and, wherever they dropped, that, is where they will end up, we have NO control of how our dreams would turn out, we’re only responsible, for dreaming up these dreams of our younger years………

and our dreams, fall out of our reaches too…

not my photograph…

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