Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

The wind blowing by

Moving the seeds of the dandelion

The one who died to be spread

The wind spreads the dandelions seeds everywhere

Across fields and streams

But there's something different about this breeze

It's picking up

Taking the seeds further and further away

Until

They vanish

Not knowing where they are

They can't grow into dandelions

But instead lived their short miserable lives

Floating in the wind

Waiting to be carried off

By something that wasn't meant to be