My lips are pressed and quick to blow
Your umbrella structure to smitherreens,
Those airy white cotton balls of fuzz
Fragments of your hairy dandelion genes.
Though your blossoms hardly ever appeal
Your dizzy seed heads beckon those eyes,
Translucent floaties with feathers slightly open
Just seeing them hover will make you cry.
Like fairyland fairies tip toeing a sunbeam
Shapely whiskers with a parachute design,
Elegent fur balls with umbrella markings
That heighten our curiosity on their decline.
