I blew it twice and twice they flew,leaving few upon the stalk to talk to friends,I thought those dandelion days would never end,but the dandelion knew the time,though I did not,and now I have the time my friends are gone,blown along the Summer breezes and as winter freezes man and beast,at least I have the pictures in my mind.

February finds me back there,older now and minus hair which once was long and flowing,I guess I'm showing my age when I speak of daisy chains and sticks of sticky Blackpool rock and yet I look for but cannot find the dandelion clock,perhaps it's locked away in preparation for some other Summers day.