image from Hope at pinterest.com
DANDELION WISHES ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The moon, a silver coin tossed high, hangs in the velvet sky. Dandelions, ghosts in the grass, glow faintly, catching borrowed light. Each puff is a soft, silent prayer carried on the breeze, destination unknown. “Do they reach the moon, these tiny seeds of longing? Or do they tangle in the stardust, blooming anew on some distant world? The moon offers no answers, only the quiet solace of its unwavering gaze. I look upward, hearing only the soft, persistent murmurs of the evening breeze blowing across the grass
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