Scouting all the way from
Eurasian highlands to North Rocky
And found something like that sort
with soul, heart and nerves
I gave her Dandelions
This one, contains my stains and dreams
And to give it I had no shame
But she said she hates them
Rest, only my ears could see as my eyes drowned
She hates them because it never lasts forever
Wind may take it away sooner or later
What’s the point of uncertainty?
So, all I did was to give her a tree of greens
Whose gush may be, taking away someone’s Dandelions,
before it’s even seen.