Dandelion
I sit in a field.
Not real, just imagination.
I see you, far away.
I pick a dandelion,
standing up.
I walk to give it to you,
but you drift away.
I run, and run,
to get it to you.
I finally reach you,
and put the dandelion in your hair.
You look so pretty,
so handsome.
You are my dandelion,
and my love for you,
so soft and sweet.
Copyright © Eli Arendel | Year Posted 2023
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment