We Go On
She plucked the yellow-headed dandelions
to present a short-fisted bouquet
of hollow-stemmed sticky joy
which I received with genuine gratitude.
When, later, they had shriveled
shut their glorious blooms
into tight-faced dark beaks, she was concerned
distressed that the gift had become so poor and ugly.
This is simply what happens over time, I consoled.
Even a flower left on its stalk will close in the evening
and, in time, its yellow hair – like yours
will change to white thistle – like mine
Then with a puff of child’s breath
it will transform into a cloud of wishes
drift away to be granted in another place
destined to sow a hundred more.
~Andrine de la Rocha
