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die Blume (The Flower)
As A Child, I Would Pick
A Flower.
Not Just Any Ordinary Flower.
A Dandelion.
I Would Blow Away The Seeds,
Wishing To Be Accepted
For What I Knew Would Come.
Somewhere, Deep Down,
I Knew.
The Seeds Would Fly Away
To A Far Place.
A Place Unknown To All.
It Flies, Traveling To Send
The Message
Of My One, Small Hope.
In That Unknown Place
It Would Either Grow And Blossom
Or Wither And Die.
I Wish That I Knew
Which Of The Two
Was Happening Right Now...
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