Petals of Contemplation: A Dandelion's Symphony

The Expressivity of the bloom is captured within the strain of the Blossoming Rose. A Melancholic hue fills the foyer of my mind as I tease my transfixed stare with the temptations of pressing upon the thorns a bit harder with each passing stroke as I caress the stem of the Rose. Each leaf dangling there slowly losing its life as it gives all that it has left for the life of what’s more than just a flower. And in my baneful selfishness I contemplate the idea of being in control as I press harder upon the thorns as I contemplate the girl, I am about to give this Rose to. Like the wick of an old lantern that holds what oil is left within it My hope for satisfying her every desire steadily burns within me yet to an end that will come at a time unknown. Yet like the wrecking ball that tears through structures to make way for new foundations courage beckons me to think not of the thorns or the temptations to earn the right of giving, by bleeding there upon them, I am swayed into a luring motion of handing the rose out to her awaiting her quick yet soft embrace of its profound beauty. In my mind the Rose crumbles to dust and ash. Yet in my hand it remains intact ever so vibrant in its warming majestic glow, of Natures endless words, of a love unspoken. And I with trembling knees extend my arm and hand, the Rose leaning towards her as if it was thirsting for the light of the sun. Yet I am poor and can't afford to buy a rose, so I go and pick a Dandelion instead. What Love I have I'd long to give, if I could but afford that which would by grace express it. And then with a saddened repose I swallow my saliva as if it were a melancholic wine to savor, for I hath no one to give the Dandelion to for the girl I'd long to love I had only imagined. Was I a fool for the imagery or a romanticist for the motions? I felt grieved with resentment for it was pointless to pick the Dandelion. Yet for some reason I began to smile as I realized the Dandelion carried within it many many seeds to spread forth its life anew: or maybe, I could just kiss her hand.