I wish I could grow like a dandelion,
from gold to thin white hair,
and be carried on a breeze
to the next yard.
This is lovely. A lot of possible metaphors in it.
It is lovely, which is why I refrained my usual background commentary.
But then you’d be bald!
Tosh–you would take the magic out of the poem. I betcha you see dandelions as weeds and not fairy parachutes in the making…
My wife makes me dig them up so, yes, weeds.
You need to check out Ray Bradbury’s Dandelion Wine–it will shift your paradigm.
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