She sits amongst dandelions


her questions mounting 

like waves

which sparkle out there in 

the middle of the river

while riddles swirl around 

her ankles…

will he kiss her

will he kiss her not…

where weeds grow white

and dry 

as neediness stretches

around signposts

 which can’t help but point to

absolutely nowhere…

he squints into the sun

as he watches

for her minnows in dusty shallows,

the shadow of a boulder

hides his  small shoulders 

which echo 

promises he 


never ever


both  find themselves wishing

 they knew how to use dandelion seeds

as parachutes 



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