Picking Dandelions Poem by athena bell

Don't you understand?
With swaying tendrils of luminescent brown-
the strands that surround her head
She puckers her lips and blows a kiss
to the winding grinding stair
Can't you see?
She's worth more that the dew that sparkles on through the shadows.
It caught your eye:
the rainbow of light
flashes in sight
from the mirror
of a fly's wing
Her painted eyelashes
and miscalculated reflections
have nothing to do with the intensity of these rings.
Don't you understand
that around and around is all that remains?