No trail left, the whisperings of Dandelion seeds,

entangled in the murky bush of sorrow.

Liberty on the gentle wings recedes,

enveloping into the dark chasms of shadow.

Crumbled in the grief of knightly days,

They retrieve, an imperceptible glow.

Oh! Come back dear dandelions,

I know there is no spring for the nymphs,

In my stygian labyrinth, never been the Zions.

Ah! Don’t become the melancholy, my heart whims,

Spread out thy darling wings, Dandelions!

Exquisite gift from the Nymphs.

Dandelion! My immortal ally! Dwell in my broken home.

Breathe thy life to the rhyme I pen.

Shew thy pact, spellbinding gloam.

Let’s construct the sketch from scratch, again.

Fly over the boundless colored dome.

Live and inspire a few others, Amen.

                                                                            ~ Twinkle George

                                                                             Chennai, India

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