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Mom’s dandelions.

This poem is oppening to Oblivion Corpus I wrote a while back.


We were strange dandelions
Little, yellow and extraneous
Wind blew followed by a ray of sun
So we became merged as one.

Cursed be that whiffing
Destiny’s thread is pulling
When nature goes on spree
And completely eradicates thee.

In your turmoil you’re not vain
Although in lack of that ochre mane
For I was just about to bourgeon
To me the world wasn’t a burden.

The roots interweave
From confinement no relief
Did what you thought was right
To cut down before we start

My part.