Fiddling around the afternoon sun-was a trail of streaming dandelions waving the crest of the golden
sand dune-
Unlike their originic beginnings-these were the flowers
that landed somehow-here-and failed to recognize
their meaning-but the colors were brightly filled with
hope-
How and into this, was this to be?
Wherever this is to us-and the sand flew like tiny speckles of star dust-
Is this to us what it is forever?
Wherever this is to you-and the washed up bits of color
from the sky entered the night with a fond feeling of
emptiness.
