Dandy. . . While Lying

As dandelion’s seed
sown in a heart’s fertile soil of generosity

like Lydia’s
prone to share… not leave any to wander
solely alone

without proper care,

without warmth from a hearth
deep and roaring

enticing, it’s flames
forceful for all to gather there

while rooms above cater to limbs grown weak
yet, other rooms house youthful bodies that seek
to aid our older ones laid up
temporarily or until sleep
has gently laid thoughts aside

until a day after cells buried
in death–dues paid

are gathered back together–

previous personalities
marvelously on earth remade.

Until that time of brilliant dawn

I dream a place of tranquil yawns
to draw ones of meager means
to mingle with ‘youthful things’ of delightful wings
to soar our skies
with hopeful eyes
of love comprised

to share a cup of tea or cookie too
with those who’ve become
in society despised…

our elderly of families
gone

or no longer
of ‘natural affection’
comprised,

although many of these wizen stalks
seemingly hollow

have grown into our bestest blooms: the wisest wise
for whom, we,
of their knowledge

not like seeds on the wind
grasp after before their darkness
it
ungraciously consumes.

Their wisdom
dances in varied stories of full lives
enhances

as air blown on embers… helps fire
zeal enough to neutralize bones chilled in twilight.

Bring joy to days in loving… ’empathize’.


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