there were dandelions in the yard early this year,
opening up short,
close to the ground.
bright yellow faces
having barely burst from the dirt,
they were eager to see you off in the morning.
the dandelions last summer,
they grew to be tall and strong
forgotten by blades or brothers
because we were biding time
missing the other
searching in the sound of smiling mouths
for the answer of why
we don’t smile much anymore.
The dandelions this year,
running wild having been left lonely
(neither bothered nor blown on)
they’re almost as lonely as me.
We both pushed up violently
bursting big with color
loud on your eyes if not
on your mind:
If we will not be picked
Why are we not even trampled.
The dandelions this year,
running wild having been left lonely:
They do not wait on burst or bloom,
still eager to greet you one hopeful morning.
Garbanzo Bae 