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the wishfulness of children
is enough to make you weep,
their faith in their futures
so unshakeable and sure.

your own dreams it seems
disbanded by mutual consent
and retreated to the farthest flung
corners of imagination.

at one time you could almost touch them
their tissue-thin luminous fragility
a hair’s breadth away,
but itinerant, elusive,
a dandelion kiss on the breeze.

you touch your lips to it,
whisper a wish, and
blow it away, to those
you love and never see.


Image from planetnatural.com