Dandelions like my hair are grey
They grow tall to get blown away
The gentle wind makes them sway
It makes them dance, kind of shy
The wind like me, enjoys the ballet
Tiptoes, in silence, one open eye
But there's an end, and it's okay
We come to life, then we go away
Sadly for them, they get lost in the sky
I try to connect with them, but why?
They'll be gone soon, and so will I
I trust my heart and it says nay
Bilal Khoukhi - 3/30/2016
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem