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Apr 2017
Yesterday, you saw a dandelion
and you could have cried.
You remember rolling down green
dandelion-covered hills.
When did you stop racing up
and rolling down hills?
When did you stop flying kites in the high wind
or picking dandelions for your mom
just to see her smile?
Darling, who says you have to
grow old
and accept the creeping stifling cold of
Who says you have to stop
National Poetry Month Day 27
Laura Slaathaug
Written by
Laura Slaathaug  North Dakota
(North Dakota)   
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