Like yesterday, the dream goes by
As soft as white dandelion flowers
Filling a green and yellow field.
The haze of late afternoon weighs my eyes
And I'm lost in the million thoughts.
Queen Anne sits on her mighty throne
And I cut it down to my size and
Gaze at each tiny petal, the mini-flowers.
A childhood game comes to mind.
I sit - I rest - with my knees in the air,
Feet firmly planted.
"He loves me. He loves me not."
Over and over, repeating my plan.
"He loves me. He loves me not."
Not anyone in mind, but a flutter in my heart.
Each petal drops with his intent.
My mind blurs in the midst of the white
Reminisce of years gone by and
Love at the doorstep.
One drops yes. Another drops no.
How easily they change their mind.
A dainty pile growing below of disenchanted,
Disengaged, disinterested beaus in white tuxedos.
At last two remain.
Yes, and red.
Red to what can it mean?
Only blood so pure in love divine.
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