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Dandelion
December 9, 2017
I am caught in the middle
Of two unmoving blocks of
Cement so stubborn and stiff
That my roots did not dare delve into such permanence,
So I fell through the cracks
And that is where I have chosen to bloom.
I am a numbing yellow, like something lovely
That you could bring home to your lover.
But I have been classified as otherwise,
Ridiculed for attempting to pull off a disguise.
What do you expect when all that have been normalized
Are fields of four-leaf clovers
And roses without thorns?
When will wishes stop being made on my corpse?
© Daniel H., Durham, NC
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I identify with dandelions.