by Michael Plante

I saw love sitting on a rock alone and tired
staring out across the land of promise and reprieve
plucking the petals off a daisy
and tossing them to the wind.

I picked a dandelion that had gone to seed
sat next to her and blew the seeds to the wind
they fluttered and floated away
higher and higher they climbed.

A smirk formed across her face
and she took my hand.