The Seeds of Dandelions

Daisies twisted into fantasy crowns and jewelry. Honeysuckles permeating the nose, golden-buttery. Sweet Honesty, when I was fresh and summery. My spirit was the frenetic wind, a new storm exciting. Shades of purple-yellow-green-pink polish, engaging. Loose, the elbows-knees-hips-ankles-neck, sashaying. Belly flop onto a gorgeous garden spread, a teen’s bed. A record-player, all my own, spinning vinyl, ‘fore I wed. What’s for dinner, left up to my mom; memories embed. When wishes, were strewn in every direction, the seeds of dandelions…when a natural glow, not internal, beads lit up my face. Life before me, without a glimpse of weeds. Now, I see clearly, the fresh trek of my progeny, assessing various paths, as if there’s a purport that they’re following. The fragrance of a bridal train; wisteria of vibrant blessing.