I pick up a dandelion and gently blow
Its pieces release into the wind
Dancing in the Summer
I imagine that they are pieces of myself
And watch with drawn breath
As they scatter and spread evermore
If love is real
And we were real
And nothing is left to chance
They will surely make their way to you
My sweet chrysanthemum
This is my final gift
The essence of this fractured soul
One that you’ve claimed
Plant it with your tenderness
When it grows
May it be a reminder
Of saccharine dreams