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Dandelions Of May
I saw the bending stems of lively green—
Where stalked a little sun of yellow bright.
Should love be like a flow’r, a sweet nineteen,
And May, a month so dry and passing rites.
Of fondest dearing names I say and tell,
Adoring in ways never thought I’d say.
Alas a wind of chill and heat did fell,
A sign for flight to wait, o’er skies of fray.
Oh, sweet Dandelion love, winds will come
And take My love, my soft yellow embrace.
Dandelion love, rites cannot break from.
When wind do carry you, swiftly I chase
When May again, come, be adored by me.
Then gone should winds blow, L’amour de ma vie.
Copyright ©
Yehoshua Yochanan
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