Dandelion Chain

Just a fond memory of making dandelion chains when I was a kid~

In memories that reflect from the pool of years gone by
There is a girl in a playground, somewhere in the east.
She is small with light brown locks that mimick the earth.
Her skin is fair, child of milk, brushed by roses on the cheeks.
In her dimpled fingers there lies a little craft,
A little gift for herself made so resourcefully;
Of green, of yellow, of near-white.
These weeds are rare blossoms, which loop into each other
To smith a little smile.

The pool recedes and here I stand, twelve years past that memory.
Never has greener grass befriended my shoes,
Nor a brighter sun shone on this nature-tinted mane,
Nor have more enchanted butterflies kissed paler skin.
These adult hands hold a wreath, a headdress for a queen;
Of green, of yellow, of nearly white,
All in the eastern breeze.

Author's Note

This will need editing too, as it's another old one. I just love the memory X3

Reviews

[Bud]

Memories are what we all are made of...nothing wrong with that. I have a real appreciation of your poetry...your work...your art! Don't stop doing your thing! It's wonderful!