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Dandelions
Dandelions growl in the wind
they are trampled underfoot
my heartbeat like a metronome
strikes a chord in my chest
a cacophony, tripping over itself
the tempo rushes, jumbling notes
I taste iron
I feel fine, dandy even
like the flower
soft, I felt it through the hole in my shoe
yellow, like the line in the road, that stretches forever
I know it does, grandma told me
they’re weeds, dandelions
a broken arm in second grade
taught me the dangers of yellow
of spinning wheels and glass bottles
a creak of old bones
rusted scissors open
nestled between gaunt palms
persistent weeds
to me they’re flowers
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This piece is intended to be a catalyst for other art. Do you feel inspired to dig out some paints or unpack your camera or pick up a pen? If not, that’s alright too. Hopefully you enjoyed reading Dandelions, I certainly enjoyed writing it.