Letters to Dandelion Read Online Free PDF Page A

sweat off her back, and
    my left arm was submerged
    into the puff of her belly,
    coiled under, in a grip that
    I knew couldn’t slip.
     
    My other arm, pillowed her
    head perfectly, with my fingers dangling far out of reach,
of
her
    tiny little hand.
     
    She inched for some space,
    which I allowed, knowing
    that before, an old pillow so
    square and cold, once lay
    in her place.
     
    That thing was famous.
    Known to me by so many names,
    and now it just lay on the floor.
     
    As I held her so tight,
    little did she know, that
    I had been holding her,
    that way for all my life.
     
    And I wanted, nothing now
    to come between us.

The Masses, a Few, and then there’s You…
     
    I can count the amount of people, close to me, on pretty
much one finger.
    So my mind when doing this, tends not to linger.
    But a finger bends in three places,
    Allowing three spaces,
    for special graces.
     
    As for the masses,
    My concern over passes,
     
    Because they are way too intertwined with the daily grind
    And see very little to do in creating an ounce of
spectacular vernacular
    for their own.
     
    It’s no surprise ninety-five percent are controlled by five,
    And the masses are also commonly referred to as, drones.
     
    Then there are the few.
     
    Who come along just as they do, at the right time when life
is full of strife,
    Able to throw off the concerns of the gimme, gimme, get, get
world;
    to see someone standing there, maybe gasping for air, with a
butcher
    knife snugly dug into their chest, and reach in and stoutly
pull it out.
     
    These people, these few, at the time appear to know exactly
what to do,
    and it can feel as though they had saved your life. (It so
seems.)
     
    They must be the answer to your dreams, and time goes by; –
until,
     
    It’s so long ago, that you’ve forgotten the original pain
that clouded
    your brain, and drenched your world with rain.
Why, remembering that, actually comes at a strain, and that’s a good thing.
     
    But now, the stress has been replaced with a new.
    The one who you thought would always be there for you - 
    Call it time,
    Call it boredom,
    Call it simple youth –
    Why not just call it the truth?
     
    The one who you thought was so “for you”,
    The one who you perceived was endlessly true,
    The person who was narrowed down by the category of “few”,-
    May not be whom they appeared to be.
    It’s such a rough awakening from a dream.
     
    Don’t take it wrong –
    There was true love shared.
    Don’t think badly of them, or yourself, you both still
cared.
But now the same feelings just aren’t there.
     
    One small argument; which lead to overnight thoughts.
    Maybe an infidelity,
    Or, maybe things have just run their course.
     
    Now you are older, wiser, and can push on without remorse.
     
    I say you – because, now, I have met you.
     
    Fictional as this passage may be –
    Speculative as it is –
    Far from the truth, or right on the head,
    This story has happened to someone.
     
    Maybe you, maybe me, in some point of time, it has set
someone free.
     
    Hurt; but what changes there?
    Wiser; for the entire better.
    And, open – for something, or someone new.
     
    My life was harrowed, as the sinews to my priorities grew.
    Thoughts have become narrowed, but my focus is now trued,
    And then in a blessing – I finally met you.
     
    In short,
     
    I am so very happy to have met you.
     
    Should these words become a pyramid, the very top would be
you.
     
    The pretentiousness of my life in unrealistic loves have
been burned away –
     
    And in my heart, there is standing room only for --
     
    You.

Oddities …
     
    Are what makes many people unique.
    Though – there are some who would
    scoff  at the thought and apply another
    labeling word, and that word is --
    Freak.
     
    So, to round out my exposition,
    Pease review some famous oddities
    for this lesson.
     
    POE – Pound for pound was the greatest wordsmith next to
Aristotle.
                A tortured soul,