Dandelion

By Emma Morgan

You, whose span reflects my days;

Did we ask to be this way? For whom

not joy nor sorrow chose to stay.

Oh voluminous sun-drunk yellow headed

floral display beyond dismay,

bright open invite to give all your

gold-filled grains away.

Till blinking light away, days blaze

hotter, yet your colour fades and drains

away, wispy illusion of bulk
dissolves, with one soft airy brush.

Curl from within, can’t retain limbs

that gently drift apart, as goldfinches

peck the last few scraps of hue.

Die back, retreat, remain unseen,

till longing for sunbeam smiles, perhaps;

Restart. The cycle re-begins, someday,

                                     to live is to embrace decay.