Dandelion seed floating in the breeze
My propellers made of softened lace
Suspended helplessly over fields
Carelessly drifting past houses and streams
In others' eyes I move with ease
But I grow weary with no ground beneath my feet
Longing for the day when I will lay on the grass
And plant my roots into the earth
I just hope that day of solid place comes fast.
My propellers made of softened lace
Suspended helplessly over fields
Carelessly drifting past houses and streams
In others' eyes I move with ease
But I grow weary with no ground beneath my feet
Longing for the day when I will lay on the grass
And plant my roots into the earth
I just hope that day of solid place comes fast.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
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