Dandy Lyin' King Poem by Axley Jade Blaze

She'd plucked him from a school of flowers
which he wasn't supposed to occupy, being a weed.
He wasn't young or freshly blooming, offering an absolute beauty
from sheer youthfulness—merely planted for effect.
You see, aged or not, he was an unparalleled sort of weed.
He was still a 'Dandy'
And, oh, the way those Dandies seduce us
'Pick me, ' they say, and we fold.
Because we know The Dandy offers something rare;
Mythical and magical.
Wishes. Magic. Illusions.
Camouflaged as a flower in appearance, those weeds.
A beautifully woven tale of deceit. A legend.
We know the result; we know wishing is for fools.
Yet, when she plucked him,
He seemed as if he could grant those wishes if she submitted,
Blew him until he was soaring;
He begged her to set him off to dance with the wind.
Perhaps it was the mellow stature, quiet beauty.
An antic odd grace.
She wished for simple things but didn't yet understand;
The mere, short-lived fling
Between conquest and Dandy
Once she folded, wished, and blew hard enough,
Instead of granting those wishes he danced alone, soaring high
Until the mystic evaporated into thin air.

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