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dandelion's narrative
May 31, 2019
footsteps have become my fear.
afraid of the grass caving in
under rubber soles,
amber dust in the breeze
from crushed petals.
i am not a sensation.
brisk glances and
indifference
is routine,
while the daffodils ten feet
from me are
encompassed by
the freshly painted
white picket fence.
and i am still.
because i am rooted
in the same place,
forced to relive until
i am unrooted
© Hoang P., Rochester, NY
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