A pair of laces upon my feet,

Upon the grass, A spear of summer,

Upon the dandelion heads

Reaching up to the sun, yearning for the light

I smother from their existence.

 

The laces have tread on much,

Have been worn to thread,

Cast aside the bed.

I pull them tight and ponder

Whither-which-way to go from where I’ve went.

 

It is the sun on the grassy leaves that beckons for my feet, but I hesitate.

Do I wish to extinguish the fire of life

Blazing across the dotted-yellow greens?

 

I share a breath with the wind,

The tasteless day bland and as dead

As the trampled grass.

 

I pull the laces from my feet,

And massage both grass and toes.

The dandelions reach to bite my heels,

In turn I lift their chins to the welcome day.

I share a smile with the wind--

The smoke shattered day rent from relentless clouds.

 

I assume the wind to be my friend, my peace.

It beckons for my feet to march further,

Stimulating the grassy threads

And uprooting dandelion seeds

To ride the wind past my pair of laces.