A Dandelion On Fire


A Dandelion on fire

In the disturbed soil of my mind,
they grow, they thrive;
The dandelions of guilt, somehow survive.

A fire that came like a tempest storm,
And the bright hues are now long gone.
The brave little soldiers held their guard,
When failed to put out the fire;
One after another they fell apart.

Their white faint shroud, now stand blackened and dead,
The forest was thirsty but the fires still spread.
They waited and waited for the call from the clouds
The once golden dandelion, then removed its crown.

Closeth her eyes she sways in her green bed,
But, the spirit of the flower was still not dead.

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