The Story of the Dandelion and the Shooting Star

I held the weathered flower
in my hand to disappear with my cold
lips and my lips to form a kiss
With a kiss I whisper a blow of my wish
the petals they sparkle
with the stars the whispers fade as they float
remembered only in remembrance, she wrote
her wishes are as free and as real
as the dreams she writes and sees and feels
they'll float into the darkness and the cold
delicately, patiently until its time to go bold
the wishes they erupt with the vision of
a shooting star
once more a way for one to wish from afar.

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