I can see those dandelions
and how they were dancing,
to the serene bliss of wind
whispering,
unctuous promises.

though the dandelions
were confused,
as to why
the wind did that.

I can hear the wind sighed
and blow a gentle soothe
to those dandelions.

I asked,
why would they fall
for the ingratiating wind?

oh, dear.
how ghost-quiet it tasted?
as I put the question mark
back at the wind,
and hold those flowers
to keep their hearts save.

the wind
stopped blowing at last,
leaving every petal on their own
without lies,
without anymore promises.

all I can hear now is
the beautiful chorus of content
filling up as the wind,
replacing it.

I let these dandelions
plant theirselves
and grow,
without relying
on the whispering wind.