Forgive me, young dandelion.
I did not feign disinterest.
My mind has running thoughts
That stole my attention.
You only meant to be a friend.
I was not being callous.
Your seedlings ought to whisk
Them away upon a random wind.
~~~~~~~
Many a door, many a door
Along the complex's corridor –
A symbol meant to welcome –
That's what they're for.
Rows of doors, floor upon floor –
Sometimes a thief they lure.
Nobody asks how you've been –
They just close their door.
~~~~~~~
Were I a rose
I would model graciously –
Oblige those of wise choice
And prickle my enemy;
If just a blade of grass
I would blend in – nonchalant –
And peoplewatch as they pass
With no desire to flaunt.
~~~~~~~
To a stranger who has died -
Money is nontransferable;
That the Egyptians tried -
The kings - they're unconsolable
But I know some things that follow:
A reputation that's admirable;
Fame - too - worth much in gold
As well as a pretty caricature.
Others will take their talents
And I - by history's sieve -
Will take - cheating prognosis -
My poems with me when I leave.
~~~~~~~
Where the children go to play
Is where the summer grass endures
And sunbeams - like a cascade -
Pour down upon their bronze shoulders.
This - the children have learned well:
Butterflies don't really flutter -
Instead - they dance a sky waltz
To the cicadas' fond clamor.
Every breeze is a giant's sigh
That brushes their roseate jowls;
Every cloud - some foam in the sky
