When I was younger, I would let my fingers graze across the dandelions

The softness of their petals would compel me into a deep trance

The color of their stems representing the camouflage of the grass

Their roots communicating in the faintest voice to represent their need of nutrients

The freedom of their seeds would present me with the biggest question of my life

What would it be like to fly?

Every time I would put my lips to one, I would feel my willingness to blow

Just to see them achieve their dreams

And then my arms would spread

My wings would extend

And I would fly

But every time I would hear the tiniest hint of the wind´s whispers, I would fall

And then I woke up

And that little girl was gone