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The seeds we are
rise on the wind,
Each to our place,
time and kind.
Where we mature
and grow
Flowers of our origin
cannot know.
When the daily sun
goes down,
To rise again
with ease
It will pull our children
from the ground
And throw them
to the breeze.
They will root,
grow and bloom,
And in their time,
ride the wind anew.
It has always
been thus.
Dandelion at seed
very nicely written,as always such a sweetness that keeps you reading on.
Enchanting picture of life. Well done, Jon
Thank you for the comments, Flower and Dee ...
This leaves peace within. Generational life defined with simple grace. Bebe
Thatnk you, Bebe.
Great---thought provoking.And certainly written better within its concept than I could do.As a "poet wannabe" to a real poet,I salute you...and thank you for sharing.
---Rick
Thank you, Rick. Higher praise than I deserve. We each just write what we think and feel. I've read some of yours and enjoy them, too. You poetry is certainly more than the work of a wannabe!
