weeds that blow upon the wind
dancing like ballerinas
dressed in white tutus
and delicate slippers
until changing in the next movement
over the bright grass with bursts of yellow
butter so creamy that it dribbles down
my childhood chin dazzling the sun twinkling
in my blue eyes
eyes as blue as the skies
of summers that live in perfect memory
prompt idea from dVerse
nice...i usually call butterflies my little sky dancers....but i love dandelions...and while some may call them weeds, i love them....they hearken back to childhood for me as well...we used to make wishes when we blew on them...
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Flutterbies. Beautiful Plant a Buddleia bush and sit back and watch. Lovely poem.
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