Greenlight washes over sleep-sealed eyes,
dapples the site of my vivisection. I
guess this is it, then; the sun setting on
this beating teenaged heart. I am growing into
something more. Something bigger. Dawn
has waned and crumbled into sun-dust over my hands and
arms and face leaving behind freckles where it lands
(I wonder, how much longer
until I can no longer sleep the day away?)
The only things
piercing through the haze of Virginian heat,
languidly seeping through the window, are
a bouquet of dandelions,
a blanket of their shed baby fuzz,
and the grooves of laughter lines
I never noticed in my reflection. On the porch we sip Shirley Temples.
I find that I still believe in forever;
I still know the sanctity of a heartheld promise,
the way it, like all living things,
finds its way
back to where it began; how,
no matter how many times you rip them up by the fistful,
dandelions bloom in the most unforgiving of places.
I believe all that is given
is ours to cherish while we have it,
though when time runs up,
it’ll crumble up like a wish in our hands
and drift away,
carrying the seeds with it.
