We Are the Normal Ones: Memoirs of a Fallen Human

Windflower

Am I only a friend in times of disaster?
Am I a dandelion?
A weed that was gifted the ability and privilege to hear one's wishes, hopes, dreams and fears.....
They whisper in my dandelion ears, then once they are satisfied with the result, they blow. And I drift on to the next broken heart. I come and go, drifting along, I'm the man in the middle.
Friends with my friends and acquaintances to my friends friends pretend to be close for the benefit of the friend. They'll always know them better because they were always around and have been around longer. But the wildflower gets moved around from hand to hand. Planting itself, growing, granting a wish or two and blown away.