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DANDELION WISHES
DANDELION WISHES
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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
Copyright ©
Sara Etgen-Baker
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