Lorraine Bonner Sculpture Arts

Cup 16: Dandelion

 

I spent many lifetimes as a dandelion.

 

I was a bouquet in the hand of a child, offered to his first beloved.

 

When I became grey, a young woman blew my hair to the wind with a wish, and I floated to a street in the great city. 

 

Between blocks of concrete I slept, gritty ash my blanket, until rain awakened me in my stony prison.

 

Perhaps you have been a dandelion. Do you remember how the earth drew your roots to her, how the sun encouraged your face to rise? 

 

Do you remember how you broke through?